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phoenotopia · 3 years

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The Last Phoenotopia Blog Update

(Date 2021 MAR 01)

I debated how to open this blog post, but perhaps the main crux of this blog post is the best place to start. The blog is being retired.

The purpose of this blog was to be a "development" blog for Phoenotopia, and well, Phoenotopia's development is done. I'll still be doing bug fixes and maintenance on the PC and Switch versions, and playstation and xbox ports are underway (by a publisher). But I'm not going to be making any more major changes to the game. At some point, you put the paintbrush down and say it's done. Blemishes and all.

Recent Events

The game launched on Steam last month, and like any launch, it was hectic. Bugs Galore. This is our first commercial PC launch, so it was a real baptism by fire. Unlike Switch's one configuration, the PC has multiple configurations and factors to account for. The game needed to be able to handle multiple control schemes, screen resolutions, refresh rates, and more! I had a 60Hz monitor going into launch and didn't know anything about Hz (I do now). There was a troublesome stutter that some players were sensitive to that my whole team didn't notice since our eyes compensated it away. There were a few times where in fixing something at one party's behest, it introduced problems for another party. A few times, due to disorganization, I unwittingly rolled back a fix that was meant to be applied. For some, the game couldn't play at all (really glad Steam allows refunds).

It was messy. It was tiring. I.AM.BEAT.

I think the worst of it is over... I'll still be around to do the last updates and bug fixes, but I'm ultimately ready for what's next.

SO what is next?

What isn't next... is Phoenotopia 2. As you may have heard down the grapevine, the game couldn't be what you call successful. No one's earned even minimum wage on it.

Maybe there's hope in the game's long tail. A year or two down the line... maybe. I won't hold my breath though. At some point in the past few months, I finished processing (or grieving) and it's time to move on.

The game has at least earned enough for us to continue our modest operations. As long as we don't expand the team, and we don't take another monster six-year dev cycle like what Phoenotopia took, we can continue. We'll have to be smarter and faster. Perhaps the most valuable thing we gained from all this is experience.

The Experience

It is a dev blog. Here are some of the lessons I've accumulated from this game's development.

- Have a good menu design. Menus aren't just that in-between fluff before you get to the good stuff. Menus are KEY. Your menus need to be robust, expandable, and *understandable* (to you, the developer). Because once the game's out, you will invariably be asked to add more options. And if your menu design is bad, every time you have to add a new menu option, it becomes a whole new pain all over again. Support mouse from the get-go, etc.

- Focus on features that people will actually care about. For instance, I've never seen anyone praise the camera's zoom feature. In practice, people try that feature a few times and then never use it again. But that feature was a constant consideration factor for every level. Run through it multiple times to make sure the level didn't break, think about which zoom levels made sense, resize rooms because they worked at one zoom level but not the other, and so on.

- Don't do boxes that you can move around. Other 2D platformers avoid movable boxes because they're a huge headache to program and they really complicate the game space. Enemies need to respond to boxes you throw in their path and either navigate around or attack it. When you're moving the box, you have to worry about constantly changing your collision size and reconciling when the box gets snagged on the environment. The boxes were also a constant source of bugs because people can manipulate them to soft-lock themselves and more.

- More focused script. Phoenotopia's 100,000+ word script was panned more for being bloated than it was praised for being lengthy. Long scripts take a long time to write and make the game more unwieldy, increasing the costs of translation and upkeep. Every update we're addressing some textual error or mistranslation. There are some highly renowned games (e.g. Hyper Light Drifter) that do without a script at all!

- Be flashy! A bat and a lightsaber take the same amount of work to program, but the lightsaber will draw a lot more attention and interest.

- Slopes, surprisingly! Six years ago when I started, Unity was ill-equipped for 2D games. If you used the physics that Unity provided you'd have a really floaty character that wouldn't adhere to the slope when going downhill. There were a hundred different tutorials saying different things (use forces, use move position, use translation, etc). You can get rectangular collisions done in a day, but to do slopes took weeks. Meanwhile, games can actually get by fine without slopes. Most people won't even notice. Did you know the Phoenotopia flash game didn't have slopes? Neither does Hollow Knight or Rogue Legacy. You can save yourself a lot of work by avoiding slopes.

(big entities look weird on slopes. Bad slope!)

I could write enough little knowledge nuggets like this to fill a book! But I'd rather just make the next game.

So… what IS next?

As mentioned previously, it's not Phoenotopia 2. Pirate and I are mostly just tossing some ideas back and forth right now. We'll go silent for a year (or two). Our next game's scope will be more modest in some ways, more ambitious in others. It will definitely be more smartly designed. (There will be a map!)

We'll announce it when it's ready for the public. It might be necessary for us to do a kickstarter. I've tried to avoid kickstarters having been burnt on quite a few myself and also because I worry that mismanaging a kickstarter would earn the ire of backers.

But I did keep this blog regularly updated for six years. So I've gained some confidence in my abilities to at least manage a kickstarter well.

Is it really the last Phoenotopia Blog update though?

Okay, not really. There is some news that I'll need to announce, and this blog is one of the game's main outreach channels. Here are the events that will cause me to update the blog:

Announcing the launch of the xbox/playstation ports when they're ready

If a physical edition of the game happens

If a new language is getting introduced into the game (Korean is a high possibility)

When we're ready to talk about our next game

If (BIG IF) we begin development on a Phoenotopia sequel. I do want to do a sequel one day if we have the means and the demand is there.

Those updates will be more on a "when they happen" basis, rather than me reporting in every couple months.

Fan Art

As always, I'm very happy to see fanart of Phoenotopia. Major thanks again to Pimez for collecting all the artwork from the corners of the internet! Since this is the "last" blogpost, Sir Pimez can finally take a rest from collecting the fanart :P

ÆV made a series of pictures that tell a story. A Pooki is humanely sheared of its wool to create a hat. The Pooki is unharmed. Nice! Gotta love Gail’s expressions.

Amagoo Mazeru makes a stunning landscape shot of a full moon and shooting stars. It’s a sharp and clear vector art. I like the faint glow of the moon and the fire and the subtle gradient in the night sky. Very skillfully done!

Hah hah. I got a chuckle out of this one. I imagine this is how Gail's enemies see her by the end of the game. CaESar made this image based on TerminalMontage's famous youtube videos. Nailed it!

CrownStar drew two pictures of Gail. I'm a big player of JRPGs, so the first shot instantly reminded me of Persona 4's art style. (Hmmm... Phoeonotopia as a JRPG... there’s potential there...) Next, Birdy is shown carried off after her defeat. I really like Birdy's expression here - she just seems mildly uncomfortable.

There's a bit of a story behind the first image. As Firanka shares it, she wasn't able to defeat the Big Eye monster at the end of the flash game, so she believed a tall tale that what awaited after was a 6 armed Kobold boss. Hilarious! The second is a rendition of the lonely Anuri elder. A rare subject. The loneliness is portrayed well here. I feel lonely just looking at it!

Koo_chop draws the clash between Gail and Katash at the top of the towers. I really like this interpretation of the game's art style. It’s faithful to the in-game graphics. And the lighting, from the glow of Gail's bat, to Katash's sword, and the lightning in the background... Amazing!

Lime Hazard shows Gail with a salute pose. Very appropriate for this occasion. I also like how there's a slight tilt in the angle that Gail is portrayed. Those dynamic angles are always hard to get right, and Lime Hazard pulled it off very skillfully. See you next mission!

Lyoung0J with a digital painting of Gail posed sitting on a rock. I like how it almost seems like she was caught in a candid moment - she’s smiling, but also feeling self-conscious. Cute! The art style really pops, and I like how Gail is sporting what I call the old anime style nose.

MyUesrNameIsSh*t with a sketch of Gail performing a skillful slingshot. I like how Gail is depicted with her tongue out in a mischievous manner, the way all mischievous people with slingshots do.

Niitsu Kentaro returns with a 2021 Happy New Year picture. That happened didn't it? A New Year... Gail's pose gave me a chuckle with how she seems to be waving the bat around as casually as one would wave hello. And "Phoenotopiyear"... Well said! One day we'll have our Phoenotopiyear...

Ochan Nu breaks all records with a stunning NINE pictures in one session :O

There's so many goodies here. My favorite would be the one with Gail staring intently at the screen - it's like she's looking directly at you. You almost feel uncomfortable.

Next, there's an Animal Crossing villager dressed as Gail and sporting her pink hair. It even looks like a house Gail would live in. Gail is a connoisseur of the arts and likes Mona Lisa. Yes :)

There are various comics of Gail pointing out Gail's weird food habits. A picture of Fran looking really cool, and even Gail rocking a bathing suit. (bathing suit image linked here in case NSFW). Wow!

Pimez didn't just collect the arts, he creates them as well! This one, which he aptly named 'The Year 175' is a depiction of when the dragons invaded the towers as told by an elderly Daean woman. Great pixeling skills! I got a good chuckle from the ice dragon leaving with its stuff slung over its shoulder.

Quo made a stunning picture of Gail playing the flute surrounded by the 5 musical notes and the Phoenix logo behind her. The theme seems to be "fire" and it works really well. Gail herself looks awesome depicted in her red suit - it's like she's leading a marching band!

Rai Asuha depicts Gail in the late game with her red suit, and night star bat, and holding a lamp. She looks ready for adventure! I really like the white outline here and Gail's poofy shoulders here - the art style feels reminiscent of Final Fantasy Tactics.

Seri also draws Gail bearing her late game equipment. Unique to Seri's drawing is how all of Gail's equipment is accessible from a pocket on her shirt. I also like how Gail is depicted with her lucky earrings - that accessory is often forgotten.

Treedude depicts Gail with a bat and wearing a funny smirk. She looks like she's ready to hurt someone!

Warotar returns with everyone's favorite Great Drake, Bubbles! It seems so happy to be featured!

I'm really grateful for all the fanart this game has received. From the bottom of my heart, thank you!

Closing Notes

Pirate drew a picture to mark the occasion. It shows Gail enjoying a hot chocolate with marshmallows and a pumpkin muffin. A rest well-earned...

Goodbye! Until next time!

#phoenotopia

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thelightofthingshopedfor · 3 years

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Goddamn it Kyra I wasn't even interested in the Lego Lokis before, but now that you've so rudely posted pics of the options I'm probably going to have to buy some. So, couple questions: I'm not familiar with the website you linked to (it doesn't help that I'm on my phone lol) - do you get them from that site or just Aliexpress? I've kind of poked around there but I don't think I've ever actually bought anything - do you have links to those ones you bought or any tips for finding them on the site? (or like. using the site in general without getting scammed or something? Idk much about it other than stuff being low priced lol).

😇😇😇

putting the rest behind a cut because oops this got long

OKAY SO the cool thing about knockoff Lego figures is that a) there are a ton of them, so you can probably find multiple versions of most characters, and b) they're super cheap, so if you do end up getting ripped off, you're probably only out a few bucks. plus if you don't get ripped off, you feel like a genius, because authentic Lego minifigs tend to cost way more than they should (and if you get them online, you probably don't have a good way to know that they're authentic) and here you are getting something just as good or better for way less.

the site I was getting pictures from is HeroBloks, which I only just discovered myself a couple days ago; it looks like mostly it's good for tracking your collection (and learning more about bootleg Lego minifigs in general, maybe--I didn't really realize until now how many different companies there are making Lego-like minifigs) rather than buying, with individual pages including sale links that are only mildly useful. like, the extremely sad TVA Loki has an AliExpress search link that apparently just searches for "blocks," which is the least helpful search term imaginable; the eBay link uses "xinh+xh1745+loki (tva)" as the search term and that's definitely better, although it doesn't actually turn up anything. maybe that one's too new to be widely available yet, I don't know. (I hope that's the case. I need him and his sad little face to come and live with me.)

anyway--eBay is a possible source. searching for "loki minifigure" gets me results for several of the new ones I’ve been seeing, and they all seem to be shipping from Japan or South Korea. the problem is they're all selling for $4.99 plus $7.49 shipping each, which is...more than I want to spend on something I know is a knockoff of some kind when I don't know anything about the quality control and I'm not guaranteed to get what's in the picture. (here's another listing asking $40 total for all 8 figures I bought yesterday, which is actually a better price, and I'd probably end up doing that if I hadn't found them elsewhere, but that's because I have a problem.)

this is why I like AliExpress, because the risks are slightly higher but the prices tend to be much lower, even with shipping prices having gone up a bit over the last couple years. as I understand it, the site is basically just a huge marketplace for tons of different sellers in Asia, like if eBay only allowed fixed-price listings and it was based in China. the vast majority of the site reads like it went through Google Translate, because it probably did. you can find...basically anything there. I have no idea if any of it's authentic. (I also don't know anything about how or where any of the knockoff stuff is made, so...there is that.) I would not, for instance, drop $300 on a Hot Toys Loki from here, even though I absolutely would have the option to do so, for the obvious reason that I'm not going to risk that much money on an item that might be a cheap knockoff or could arrive broken. there is, in general, a solid possibility of breakable things arriving broken, because decent packaging costs more. cheap shipping will be slow (by which I mean like...up to 90 days), and most purchases either won't have tracking at all or won't have accurate tracking, so this is absolutely not a place to buy anything you want to get quickly. you also don't want to just buy something and forget about it, because there are (variable but generous) time limits past which you can't get a refund if you don't receive your items. the site's UI is...mostly functional. you often have to get a little creative with your search terms to find what you want (and sometimes you won’t find what you want through searching, but through looking at related items on the pages of things that aren’t quite what you want or are what you want but aren’t a good price). you will, absolutely, come across a lot of stolen art on things like pins, t-shirts, stickers, and phone cases, which you might not realize until you see something you recognize from a fanartist you like, and obviously that sucks. listing photos are nearly always stock photos, so in many cases they won't tell you anything about the item you're actually getting. you know the Wish app, and all the crazy things people get from that? you can find all the same stuff on AliExpress, at similar levels of quality.

however, if you approach it keeping all that in mind, it can be a great resource. I can't make any guarantees about the site's safety, but to the best of my knowledge it's secure and I've never had any weird charges show up after buying something. it's also my understanding that Alibaba, the parent company, is more or less the Chinese equivalent of Amazon in terms of the amount of business it does, which would probably be pretty tough if customer data were routinely being exposed to thieves, you know? I've also successfully gotten several refunds for items that never arrived, which actually hasn't happened all that often--but knowing that it can happen and that the return period expires, I’ll check back on the site if it seems like it’s been an unusually long time and I’ll make a reminder for myself of the deadline so I can contact the seller in time if necessary.

so the way I shop there is, I don't buy expensive or fragile things in general, because I recognize there's a nonzero chance I'll get a cheap knockoff, or something that was broken in transit because the seller tossed it in a box with no padding and called it good, or sometimes nothing at all. but like eBay, the sellers and items have ratings and reviews from customers, so that helps avoid some risk. items with lots of reviews tend to include at least a few customer photos, which are great for getting a better idea of what the thing you're buying actually looks like. I took a bit of a risk last year buying a Hot Toys (or the equivalent, I actually have no idea) Steve Rogers head for about $20, for instance, but I wasn't super worried about it because the customer photos looked good, the seller I used had a lot of sales and a lot of good ratings, and it was still a lot less than I would've paid for an authentic Hot Toys Steve Rogers head--and in fact he got here just fine and he looked fantastic. I also spent about $20 for a knockoff Iron Studios Loki statue, because in that case it was like...yep I’d love the real thing, nope I’m not willing to spend hundreds of dollars on it, yep I am willing to spend $20 on something that doesn’t look quite as nice but still looks good enough for me in the customer photos. well, and I’ve also bought knockoffs I knew would look bad, because they were cheap and I want all the Lokis and I have enough of an addiction that all the Lokis does in fact sometimes mean “even ones that look really bad” to me.

anyway, uh, Lego-type minifigs. this is an especially good area to go knockoff, because--okay, apparently I can’t link to a page of HeroBloks search results for some reason, but it’s the best resource I’ve found for this type of thing that isn’t just authentic Lego figures. but if you go there and do a search for “loki” you’ll get a bunch of results and you’ll see that they come from like...9 or 10 different brands. Lego specifically has only four Loki options: Avengers Loki in black, Avengers Loki in gray for some reason (which, frankly, looks like a cheap knockoff but isn’t), movie-inaccurate Ragnarok Loki with the blue outfit and the full helmet, an ugly Classic Loki, and a mostly green Loki from I guess the first Thor movie (and then I think they’re going to release a TVA Loki, a Sylvie, and a Throg). all those other results--all those different outfits from every single Loki appearance, and different variations on those outfits, nearly all of them more screen-accurate and/or detailed than the Lego versions--are technically knockoffs. they’re better and you can buy them for way less. (I mean, a lot of them are new so I don’t have them yet, but I do have frost giant Loki, better Ragnarok Loki, better Avengers Loki, opera Loki who actually has another face that’s half-Jotun, and at least one chrome-helmet option, and they all look basically like the photos. so I think I can reasonably expect most of the new ones to look basically like their photos too.)

for reasons that I don’t understand aside from a vague guess that it’s copyright-related, AliExpress pretty much no longer shows full pictures of Lego-type figures in their listings--instead, you have to pick just based on the heads. this is a problem when lots of heads look very similar to each other! luckily, the listings also typically have the actual serial numbers for each figure, as do the HeroBloks listings, so you can cross-reference them to see what you’re really getting. for instance let’s take this listing because it’s cheap and it offers most of the Loki figures that are currently available. say you’re interested in one of the horn-less Lokis. there are...let’s see, five of them, but you have no idea what they actually look like aside from slightly different facial expressions and maybe weapons. however, the first one listed says XH1359 for its color...and what do you know, 1359 is the serial number for this Loki by a company called Xinh. okay cool, how about the last one? the “color” is listed as WM2182--and yes, HeroBloks has a listing for a Ragnarok Loki from World Minifigures with the serial number 2182. (I just ordered all 8 of the new World Minifigures ones yesterday, so again, I can’t personally guarantee yet that they’ll look as good in person as in the pictures--but I think they probably will, and more importantly they cost a whole dollar each.) and if HeroBloks doesn’t have a particular figure, you can probably find something useful just by googling the serial number.

I specifically bought from this listing yesterday because they currently have a bit of a sale going and a deal for free shipping if you buy 10 figures, and I wanted a couple duplicates, so it worked out to be the cheapest option. the same store has another listing for a bunch more Marvel characters, including a couple more Lokis I already had, so it should be pretty easy to get the free shipping so the figures are less than a dollar each and you’re only risking about $10. if you’d rather try one or two and see how it goes, it looks like this listing is probably the cheapest, with figures currently going for a little over a dollar each once you add shipping (although it’s totally possible shipping is more for me because Alaska).

that’s...probably already way more information than you really wanted, but I hope at least some of it makes sense. feel free to ask other specific questions if they come up--I might not be able to give answers exactly, but I can probably tell you what my experience has been, which is better than nothing.

#loki #action figures #lego #marvel cinematic universe #conversations #scintillatingshortgirl19

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hermannsthumb · 4 years

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Prompt where both Newt and Hermann wake up from the same (drift-fueled) nightmare and try to console the other while still shaken up themselves? 🥺

oh the romance of it all...meant to post this yesterday but i was too lazy to finish

---------------------------

The laboratory is not empty when Hermann--wrapped tight in a dressing gown, head pounding--shuffles through the door some time between four and five in the morning. He’s not surprised, as he thinks he ought to be. And wishes he were. He knew the instant he snapped awake in bed (shaking, choking back shouts) that the laboratory would not be empty, which he knows entails a rather worrying set of implications about his drift with Newton and the aftereffects thereof. None of which Hermann feels much like contemplating at the moment.

Newton is wrapped in a blanket on the couch and shaking one leg up and down. He doesn’t so much as look at Hermann as Hermann collapses next to him. “Bad dream,” he says.

It’s not question. “Yes,” Hermann agrees.

It’s been three days since they closed the Breach, three days of packing up Newton’s samples, of wiping down the chalkboards in the lab, of sorting through every last singular scrap of paper, each one followed by a night of bewildering, incomprehensible nightmares that have Hermann waking practically on the hour in a cold sweat and dry-heaving into his pillow. Nightmares that have Newton waking, too.

Newton lifts one edge of his blanket and offers it out to Hermann, and after some deliberation, Hermann tucks himself in against Newton with a grunt of thanks. “Sure,” Newton mumbles.

Newton is in the clothing he wore in the laboratory earlier, and Hermann wonders if he even bothered changing. Or if he made it back to his quarters in the first place; his boots and glasses lay in a haphazard pile on the floor, and he’s as groggy as if he’d woken only seconds before Hermann. Hermann wouldn’t be surprised if he fell asleep here. “Yours?” Newton says.

Drowning in a sea of blue so bright it stung his eyes. A cement ceiling caving in on Newton, glowing tendrils reaching for him as he shook and shook. Hermann, age eight, crying alone in the school lavatory after a larger boy pushed him down in the hallway. “One I’d rather not remember,” he admits.

“Mine were memories,” Newton says. “I think.” His eyes flick up to Hermann. “Not all mine, though.”

Newton has not divulged the specifics of his venture out into Hong Kong’s underbelly for a second kaiju brain, but considering Otachi ravaged the city in the midst of it, Hermann suspects the glowing tendrils were not a fictional concoction of his nightmare. (He wonders if that also means Newton had to see him crying in a toilet stall, and hopes that’s not the case.) “It was...unpleasant.”

Newt shrugs. “They’ll probably stop in a few days.” He pushes his half-cracked glasses up and tucks his side of the blanket closer around himself. “Or weeks. I’ve been reading up on all the old case files from the very first drifts, you know--”

“Highly classified case files,” Hermann points out. Highly classified case files Newton presumably dug around for in the hard drive of Hermann’s desktop computer--perhaps that’s why he was in the laboratory so late.

“If you had a better password, maybe,” Newton says. “Anyway, a lot of the original side effects mention weird fucking dreams, mostly reliving old memories, and your drift partner’s memories--and I kinda threw together the shit we used from old garbage, you know. I don’t think the, the fucking hivemind is helping things either. Probably just making the leftover connection stronger. You know I dreamt I was a kaiju last night?”

Hermann shakes his head mutely. If it was a week ago, he would’ve said something along the lines of lucky you, or isn’t that your dream come true?, but Newton has begun to tremble rather worrisomely, so instead he merely settles his hand on Newton’s knee in a way he hopes is comforting. Hermann thinks he may have dreamt of being a kaiju last night, too, and of tearing apart worlds he’s never seen the likes of before.

“Well, I did,” Newton says. “It wasn’t--cool. I was dizzy all day, like I was gonna puke, like--like I kept expecting myself to be fifty times bigger. Fifty thousand. Or have claws. I don’t know, dude.” His knee has begun to shake up and down again, not slowed even by Hermann’s touch. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just thought this shit would be more fun, you know?”

“What would be more fun?” Hermann says.

“The world not ending,” Newton says, and laughs. “I don’t really feel like a rockstar.”

Hermann feels a rush of pity for his colleague. Friend. He wonders, now, if Newton’s staying late in the laboratory and accessing of old drift data was not merely a way to stall sleep. “You said yourself it’s likely just temporary,” Hermann reminds him. “Perhaps, in a week, we’ll be back to normal.”

“Hope my fucking eye is, too,” Newton says. He rubs at the bloodied left. The nurses in medical insisted on sticking a patch over it to prevent him from doing that very thing, but Newton ripped it off in the lab yesterday in a fit of rage after slamming his elbow into the edge of his workbench. I don’t have any fucking depth perception, he shouted. “I kinda like yours, though. That’s very rockstar.”

“Thank you,” Hermann says mildly. Compliments paid by Newton are rare, so Hermann never turns one down. “I think we ought to go back to bed. It’s getting late. Or, rather, early.” They have a long day of packing up more samples and cleaning more chalkboards and sorting more papers ahead of them, after all.

“Ugh,” Newton says.

"Mm.”

Hermann is not expecting Newton to curl in against Hermann’s chest and press his face to the crook of Hermann’s neck as he does. He does not mind it--the opposite, in fact. “Five minutes,” Newton says, his voice muffled. “Please. I like...having you with me. I feel better.”

He’s not being sentimental--Hermann chides himself--but purely factual; the anxiety that’s lingered in the back of Hermann’s head since the Breach collapsed subsides somewhat in close proximity to Newton, and when they touch, he might almost say he feels calm. At the very least, he’s able to disentangle the two threads of their thoughts and label them as either Gottliebian or Geiszlerian in nature. “Of course, Newton,” Hermann murmurs. He wraps an arm around Newton’s waist. (He likes having Newton close for sentimental reasons as well.) “We can stay here as long as you’d like.”

Newton dozes off within three of those minutes. Hermann does, too.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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me-myself-and-my-fos · 3 years

Text

After

Pairing: Sam Winchester x @astralshipper

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Life after hunting

A/N: Merry Christmas Astra!! Here’s your Christmas present!! I hope you like it!

The morning alarm went off, piercing the soft quiet of the early autumn morning. Astra groaned as she sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes while her brain worked to recover the remnants of whatever dream it had conjured for her. She was remembering broken details: feathers, blood, the word ‘father’, and… a familiar face.

Her back straightened, mind jerking into the fight-or-flight mode she had been used to for so many years. Chuck. Her eyes glanced about the room as she continued to blink the sleep away. He wasn’t there. No one was. She sighed in relief, running a hand through her hair when she realized it was just a dream. They had stopped him so many years ago, it was a distant memory. Absentmindedly she reached over for her husband, but her hand was met with a cold space, the comforter of the bed neatly tucked in. He must be downstairs, she figured as she got up and threw on Sam’s old robe. The fabric touched the floor and trailed after her like the cape of a royal or the train of a wedding dress.

The journey downstairs from the top floor seemed like forever, and with each step her mind tangled itself in worse-case scenarios as it mildly clung to the dream. She shook her head at the bottom of the stairs. If something was wrong, she would’ve known. Sam would’ve woken her, there would be a mess in the house. As far as she was concerned, his gun was still locked up tight in the bedside table.

Giggles eased her mind as she headed towards the kitchen, and Astra couldn’t stop herself from leaning in the doorway to watch. Sam stood in the kitchen half dressed with his dress shirt on, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tie loosely hanging from his neck as he had it tucked into the waistband of his pajama pants. In one arm he held their 5 year old daughter, Mary Ellen, as she sipped her strawberry milk with a curly straw. With the other arm he was making breakfast, and it smelled delicious. By the dining table in his high chair was their 11 month old son, Bobby Dean, who was entertaining himself with his Cheerios, half of which were laying on the kitchen floor. Astra watched as one fell to the floor with a squeal from the toddler, and the family Golden Retriever, Floofy (named by a 3 year old Mary), quickly ran over to eat the cereal.

She watched her family quietly for a moment, recalling all that happened over the last years. After Chuck had been defeated, Dean continued his life of hunting, while Sam suggested to his wife that they retire. Astra had no serious objections, and was thrilled when Sam told her he wanted to continue his law school education. The two moved to California for a couple of years while Sam attended Stanford to continue his education, and a year before they planned to move back to Lebanon post-law school, Mary was born. Finding a house in Lebanon wasn’t the hard part, it was finding the right house that would meet their needs for a growing family. They found a dinky old two story house, and after cleansing it of any possible ghosts (upon Dean’s insistence), multiple renovations went underway. They did it, though, and Sam and Astra had the house they wanted to grow old in and raise their children in. It was perfect. Well, except for the back gate that Dean was going to fix while he was over for Christmas and New Years.

“Mama!” Bobby called, eyes lighting up at the sight of his mother. He reached out for her, opening and closing his hands.

Astra walked over and picked up the little boy from his high chair, hugging him close. “Good Morning, my little cherub!” She said, kissing his cheek. Bobby squealed, and Sam’s attention went to that of his wife and son. He smiled softly when he saw her.

“Good Morning, honey,” Sam greeted her. Mary started to wiggle in his arm and he gently placed her on the floor so she could run to her mother.

“Good Morning, Sammy,” Astra smiled. Mary attached herself to Astra’s leg, cup of strawberry milk still in her hand.

“Mornin’ Mommy!” Mary exclaimed up at her mother, grinning and revealed the two teeth she was missing.

“Good Morning, my little angel,” Astra chuckled, playing with Mary’s dark hair.

“Did you sleep well?” Sam asked his wife as he started to plate the breakfast for the three of them.

Astra kissed Bobby’s cheek again and sat him back in his high chair, feeding him Cheerios. She sat in the dining chair next to the high chair, and Mary pulled herself into the closest one to her mother. “I slept… okay.”

He raised a brow at her as he put two large plates on the table, followed by a smaller one in front of Mary. “Did I keep you up working? I promise, the case is almost over with and then you won’t have to worry about my odd hours ever again.”

“We’ve had weirder sleeping schedules, sweetheart,” Astra replied. Sam nodded in agreement as he sat down across from her, giving Mary a kiss on the head as she dug into her breakfast. “No, it’s just… I had a weird dream.”

Sam gave her a look of concern. He had weird dreams back in Stanford when he was with Jessica. Nothing good came of them. Sometimes had nightmares of something happening to Astra, Dean, and/or the kids. He wouldn’t admit it but many nights they kept him up. He was sure Astra knew, though.

“What kind of dream?” He asked hesitantly, almost scared of the answer. Astra glanced over at Mary, who was too preoccupied with her breakfast and Floofy to even pay attention to her parents’ conversation.

“It was…” she hesitated for a moment, afraid that if she said it out loud then it would make the dream real, make it happen again. “It was about Chuck. When we stopped him.”

Sam’s posture changed, and he took her hand, gently rubbing his thumb over her wedding ring. “I get those sometimes too. But it’s all over now, okay? We won. We earned this.”

She nodded, biting her lip. “Do you ever think of what would’ve happened if we didn’t?” He squeezed her hand to comfort her and glanced at their daughter.

Mary had her mother’s hair, her father’s eyes. She even had his nose, something Astra adored from day 1. They frequently bickered over whose smile she had. Sam thought Mary had her mother’s smile, while Astra believed their daughter had Sam’s smile. The debate started the first time they saw her smile, and it’s been ongoing ever since. It was one of the small things in life he wouldn’t trade for anything.

“I try not to,” he replied quietly. He took in a deep breath and looked at Astra softly. “But that’s in the past now.” She nodded, a small smile appearing on her face. Sam gave her hand a final squeeze before letting go to start breakfast. “What are your plans for the day?”

“I’m going to take Mary Christmas shopping,” Astra replied, digging into the food. “We already got your presents, now we have to get a few things for Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas.”

“Can you get something and just stick my name on it to say it’s from me?” Sam asked, half joking.

She shook her head and laughed. “You tried that last year.”

“And it worked.”

“Until Mary told Dean.” She reminded him.

“Okay, I’ll get something for them myself.” He said, feigning exasperation.

“And Garth is coming to visit later with the kids,” Astra reminded him.

“Yay! Uncle Garth coming!” Mary shouted, standing up on the dining chair as she started to listen in on the conversation.

“That’s right, you get to spend some time with Uncle Garth,” Sam said, tickling Mary’s stomach a little which erupted a series of giggles from her.

“He also agreed to babysit for tonight so we can go on that bookstore date you’ve been wanting to do,” Astra told him.

“That sounds like a plan,” he grinned. Sam glanced over at the clock and saw what time it was. “Oh sh—” he stopped himself short, aware of the two little children who liked to mimic words. “—oot.” He caught himself. “I have to go to work, I didn’t realize it’s so late.”

“I’ll get the plates, don’t worry,” Astra assured him. Sam nodded and stood from the table, kissing Mary and Bobby on their cheeks. He stepped over to Astra and gave her a soft kiss before heading towards the living room to grab his files and briefcase. “Don’t forget your pants!” She called to him as she heard the door open.

“Ah, right! Thanks!” Sam shouted, rushing upstairs to finish getting dressed.

Astra hummed, looking at the two children on either side of her. Every hunt had brought them closer to this life and it was worth it.

#supernaturally soulmates #Mrs Winchester mutual #mywriting #self shipping community #self shipping #self ship community #self ship #self insert fics #self insert community #self insert #other’s ships

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meanminyxrd · 4 years

Text

that was enough (andreil)

i decided to write a short little blip based off of some photos i took of myself and of course, as an andrew kinnie, it became andreil focused. the pictures will be attached at the end of the post! (btw this was not proof-read at all and it's really just a mess pls forgive me.)

after a rough game of exy, neil and andrew are the last ones in the locker room to shower. it was against a difficult team; they had won, but it was a close call. all of them had been exhausted after the game but neil and andrew had both been on press duty that night and it had been rather lengthy. the foxes had offered to stay and wait, but neil waved them off. he didn't mind dealing with the publicity. of course, with the way neil's mouth tended to get away from him, andrew decided it might be smartest if he stuck around, even if he didn't particularly want to. someone had to limit the amount of senseless shit that neil spilled to the public; although it was rather funny.

the foxes knew that, quite frankly, andrew didn't care if they stayed or not. they were also aware that even if invited to celebrate their win, the two boys most likely wouldn't join them. they preferred to spend more time with each other than the foxes. well, at least andrew did. neil sometimes was able to convince him to come socialize with them instead because it was 'interesting' and 'made them a better team'. to andrew, it was laughable, but it was always worth it to see the soft smile on neil's face whenever he agreed to something slightly outside of his comfort zone.

by the time the boys were done with the press and moving on to get cleaned up, the rest of the team had gone back to fox tower and most of the stadium had cleared out as everyone tried to avoid rush hour at the same time. only wymack and abby were waiting for them, and after a gruff reminder for them to lock up and a softer reminder to stay safe from the both of them, they were gone. just like that, it was only the two of them.

neil was now comfortable enough around andrew not to be ashamed of his body and it’s numerous scars. andrew had been seen by neil a few times now, and though it was still new, andrew wasn’t as afraid of it anymore. both boys undressed openly, seeing as though they were the only ones there. neil finished undressing first and went into one shower, and shortly after, andrew knocked lightly on the door and asked, ‘yes or no?’

neil smiled slightly to himself. they’d showered together before; well, he had showered, and andrew had showered afterwards, not keen at first on taking his clothes off in front of neil. on one hand, it seemed weird that the first place to shower together would be in the foxes locker room; but at the same time, it couldn’t have been more fitting.

he gave his affirmation, and andrew slipped into the shower with him. it wasn’t spacious by any means, and they were rather close together, but neither of them seemed to mind. neil was careful of his hand placement, and kept them to his sides while andrew just stared at him for a moment. neil was content to do the same. every time neil opened himself up to andrew like this, his boyfriend got the same exact look on his face; the same warm look in those dizzing hazel eyes. he developed this stare that at first glance would seem blank and empty; but underneath, neil could tell that andrew was taking a moment to appreciate him. he was appreciating the trust given, and cradling it to his chest like it was the best gift he’d ever received. and even though andrew would deny it, and even if neil wasn’t quite sure it was there, he still swore that he saw something akin to love in andrew’s eyes when he looked at neil like that. but what would he, neil josten, know anything about that?

little did neil know, he looked at andrew much the same way. eyes full of admiration, gratitude, and trust. it was easier for him to show it with his soft smile and bright blue eyes, and it never failed to take andrew’s breath away. which, of course, he hated. he not-so-gently cupped neil’s face and awaited a nod before kissing him. it wasn’t long, by any means; they were both really too tired to get anything serious going right now. plus, they were in the foxes locker room. but andrew couldn’t help himself when he saw neil bite his lip like that, and the latter wasn’t complaining.

at first they continued the rest of the shower in comfortable silence. andrew helped wash neil, with consent first, of course, before moving on to himself. neil, knowing better than to touch without say, was content to watch. however, andrew sent him a look as he grabbed the shampoo and paused, staring for a moment. he then suddenly handed it to neil. neil blinked emptily, not really understanding, but taking the bottle anyways. andrew mumbled out with an impatient breath an explanation.

‘you said someday you’d like to wash my hair. now’s as good a time as any. my arms are tired from playing and getting you clean.’ he kept it brief and to the point, and neil knew he shouldn’t, but he still allowed that big grin to slowly cover his face anyways. he almost couldn't believe andrew had remembered him saying something as casual as that, but he also knew about that eidetic memory of his. andrew rolled his eyes, but there wasn’t any malice in it as he closed his eyes and let neil wash his hair, relaxing against the soothing scrubbing motion he picked up.

neil finished washing his boyfriend's hair and left him to rinse it out, getting dried off and dressed. he decided at the last minute that instead of wearing his own sweatshirt, he was going to steal andrew’s, and so that's exactly what he did. he checked his phone as a few drunken texts were starting to pile into his inbox, mostly from nicky. he browsed his text messages feeling mildly amused while he waited for andrew to come out, and a few seconds later, the water shut off. neil instinctively looked up when andrew exited the shower, and his heart leapt to his throat. yeah, he’d just seen andrew, but he hadn’t seen him. it was one thing when they were pressed close together in the dim light of the showers, and another thing all together when he was just… there. almost sparkling under the bright lights of the locker room, water droplets trailing down his skin and falling into crevices such as his abs or making little puddles in his collar bones.

neil was very obviously entranced. he snuck his phone up and snapped a picture of andrew drying off. he smiled fondly at the image before secretly catching another, but it didn’t go unnoticed for long. he giggled childishly when andrew noticed, and playfully told him to, ‘smile!’ andrew responded with quite the sneer and flipped him off, but again, there was no negativity behind the action.

once andrew was dressed (now wearing neil's sweatshirt instead of his own) they locked up the stadium and headed back to their dorm. everyone was down in the basement partying still, as they hadn't been absent long, so andrew and neil had the dorm room to themselves. both of them being absolutely exhausted from their long and well fought win, however, simply headed to bed. they curled up to one another; not quite touching, but close enough to feel each other's presence. with the fatigue of a long day of exy setting in and the smell of the vanilla body wash neil kept stealing from him, andrew was fast asleep in minutes. it was surprising to neil, as usually he was the first one asleep, but he wasn’t complaining. with a crooked smile at his sleeping boyfriend, he took a couple last photos to remember the night. maybe this night hadn’t been a big thing to andrew, but to him, every little moment meant the world. every little bit of trust handed over was like winning a thousand exy games all in one sweep. and even if it wasn't all of andrew's trust, it was some. it was progress. and to neil, that was enough.

when i say i wrote all of that just for these 5 pictures i'm not kidding. the sleepy andrew photos were kind of second thoughts, but i literally just wrote a whole ass one-shot solely because i'm a raging kinnie who looks like andrew minyard and also happens to kin him. well. i hope you enjoyed, and as promised, here are your pictures! (don't worry, all very sfw unless ur triggered by collar bones or shoulders)

#aftg #andrew minyard #all for the game #andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard kinnie #meanminyxrd

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ohblackdiamond · 3 years

Text

liner notes/unused joke summaries for kiss fics (part iv)

Despite what my general dislike of the shift key and my tendency to mock all that I love might imply, I actually overthink everything I write to a great extent. I make no claims to these explanations being in any way enjoyable, but if you wanted to know what I was thinking while writing KISS fic… now you do. Part one can be found here. Part two is here. Part three is here.

little t&a --If Paul had boobs, they would be big and Gene would want to grab them.

>>Title from a Rolling Stones song of the same name; most of the chapter titles are from another Stones song, “The Spider and the Fly.” I started it during quarantine as a means to occupy myself and destress, and didn’t initially plan on posting it at all. Once I’d written five chapters without having posted it or mentioned it to anyone, I figured, well, I guess this might as well go somewhere, so I put it up. I had the hope that it’d give me something to strive for during the stress of lockdown, and I’d assumed that I wouldn’t ever have that much time to devote to a story again.

There were a couple of things that really inspired me. I’ve always enjoyed sexswaps as a bit of a guilty pleasure, but wanted to do a different take on them-- there’s this tendency for sexswaps to either be wacky hijinks or an excuse to write particularly brutal noncon. There’s also a tendency for the sexswapped character to almost automatically start adopting stereotypically feminine traits he didn’t have prior, with no real reason for it. I wanted to try and avoid all that as much as possible.

... There’s also another tendency for the sexswapped character never getting back to normal, and I wanted to avoid that, too. I mean, c’mon, KISS is supposed to start the Love Gun tour a month after the fic. Paul can’t exactly pull the trigger of a love taco. (Maybe gently brush it a bit...)

I had Paul already cursed for five days at the start of the fic because I thought it would make things easier and allow the plot to advance more quickly. I also felt like it would give him more autonomy-- prior to Gene showing up, he has tried (albeit in small ways) to get a handle on what’s happened to him, and while he’s hermited it up, he hasn’t given up. Autonomy in general was pretty important for me re: Paul. (Incidentally, probably one of my favorite things about this fic is that Paul’s made that poor twelve-year-old kid on his bike buy him sanitary napkins.)

I wanted to explore a couple of other things, too, mostly rock and roll’s (and KISS’ in particular) pretty heinous treatment of women. Gene and Paul argue in the eighties that groupies know the score from the beginning, and even postulates that those relationships are more “honest” than just taking a girl out to dinner. They’re not alone in this (and, of course, as married men, these days they try not to discuss those times at all); almost every band/artist from around that time period will give you the same answer. “The girls know what they’re doing.” I think many of them did know. I also think many of them came into those hotel rooms expecting a lot more than they ever received, and I think plenty of girls ended up at the very least disappointed by their encounters, if not humiliated or worse.

I don’t know if this was successful, but I also wanted to at least try to poke a few holes in celebrity/idol worship as well. Carol’s scathing comments to Paul-- “they [fans] think there’s something you’ve got that they can get at, but there’s not” pretty heavily exemplify behavior I’ve seen at conventions, fan meet-ups, etc. At the end of the day, well, there’s no point in putting them on much of a pedestal. I dunno. I’ve seen some weird crap in the name of fan worship, in and outside of RPS. Keith Richards talks about it in his book-- girls urinating on themselves out of sheer nerves/excitement just at seeing the band, etc., which, while disturbing, had to have given them a sense of being something beyond ordinary (and act accordingly, of course).

I don’t know. I like them a lot, but I can’t hero-worship these guys; they don’t live in the real world. They’re not, ultimately, relatable or accessible despite the billions of photos, the twitter posts, the meet and greets-- any more than they were 40-odd years ago. I think there can be a real danger in thinking they are. I wanted to show that, too, but again, I don’t know if it came across properly.

One of the aspects I really struggled with was getting a good handle on Paul’s innately slippery sense of identity without it overtaking the story entirely. Gene’s very stable identity was a good foil, and it helped that most of “t&a” is from his point of view, rather than Paul’s.

Another place I faltered with was Paul’s outing alone at CBGB. The first draft had the guy in the club slip quaaludes into his drink, but I really didn’t like that at all and felt it took too much control away from Paul/punished him for going out on his own. I thought it’d be more interesting if Paul deliberately took what he knew was a dangerous combination (alcohol + quaaludes) in the hopes that would make him feel better about sleeping with someone he didn’t care about.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, having him do that (and the way the scene with the guy at the club ends) also meant that I couldn’t have him hop right into bed with Gene that night, either, so that accounts for some of the delaying. I was also really wanting to make sure in general that when Gene and Paul finally did go all the way, there wasn’t any feeling of being coerced or pressured. Not that Gene would do either of those things, but I didn’t want him or Paul to be doing it out of any feeling of obligation or hurry; I wanted it to be as natural as possible, under the circumstances. And I wanted, again, Paul’s dubious sense of self and Gene’s ambiguous feelings about Paul(’s boobs) to come into play-- yes, Paul, now you, too, can take Gene on the amazing technicolor dreamdate you’ve been fantasizing about for the last seven years! Or, you know, not. Overall, there are some pacing issues and the story slows down considerably after Gene takes Paul home from CBGB, but I like to hope that most of the scenes add something.

There were a couple of secondary plotlines that got scrapped because I couldn’t get them to fit well enough with the narrative. One of them was Paul’s very troubled relationship with his sister, Julia. There’s a fair amount of references to her scattered throughout, and Paul brings her up on several occasions, generally without much provocation, and generally at mildly odd moments (at Central Park and immediately after getting drawn by Gene being the standouts). There was an initial draft of the chapter in which Ace calls Paul, where Julia’s the one calling Paul instead (after having gotten his number from their parents). I wanted to at least get the start of a reconciliation going between them. Ultimately I scrapped it because I couldn’t get it to flow with the main plot and never felt like I’d ever explored it thoroughly enough for it to be worth a detour.

The comparison between Paul and Carol is pretty blatantly obvious, even in the narrative. Paul and Gene both recognize it (Gene, initially, when he notes that Carol doesn’t seem to belong at 54 any more than Paul does), and it makes them highly uncomfortable. (Mary-Anne, Carol’s friend, also notices it-- “she [Paul] reminds me of Carol. Just pitiful.”) They’re both very shy, insecure people that have thrust themselves into a world they’re not naturally suited for (show business) in order to achieve their own ends. They’ve both put great stock in a single person who helped them (inadvertently or not) during a dark time, and are driven by those feelings, despite knowing that person is out of reach.

Physically, they’re intentionally mostly opposite (Carol’s short, with a slight build, lighter hair, blue eyes, vs. Paul being, well, Paul-- tall, fuller build, black hair, brown eyes). But narratively speaking, neither of them are described as beautiful; “cute” and “kind of pretty,” sure, but nothing past that (except when Gene says it towards the end). That was important, too, for a couple of reasons. One, I wanted to further the comparison between them; two, I wanted to at least try and dispel the idea that all groupies were glamorous; many of them were rather ordinary-looking.

Paul not being “playboy material as a girl” was very deliberate. I feel like a lot of sexswaps tend to make the guy in question end up a ridiculously hot babe, which didn’t quite jive with what I was going for (not that I wanted Paul to end up awful-looking, but...). ... He’s probably hotter than he thinks he is though; at least, Gene didn’t mind at all, and Pete thought he was pretty. I wanted him to be recognizable if one knew where to look (face, body language). I didn’t want him to end up a tiny, frail-looking waif-- given what he looks like as a dude, that didn’t make sense to me. So this meant the less perfect attributes had to stay and carry over to a female body. He ended up with big boobs because... well, honestly because if he wasn’t going to end up with a great figure overall, he might as well have great boobs. And I mean, really, his chest’s already pretty all right as-is.

I didn’t want there to be a love triangle, but I did want it obvious, at least in an offhand way, that Peter and Paul had had sex (Ace mentions it in the car with Peter, with his “how long did it take you”). I wanted to incorporate Ace and Peter to as great an extent as possible in general.

Marbas is an actual demon from The Lesser Key of Solomon, although other than the few sentences Paul reads off from that grimoire, there’s not much more information on him to be found.

#kiss fanfiction #liner notes #gene simmons x paul stanley

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halictus-writer · 4 years

Text

Welcome to Seattle (Ch. 4 of 5)

Remus woke early the next morning, feeling energetic. He brewed a fresh pot of coffee and sat down at his table/desk combination to work on his novel. Safely wrapped in an oversized sweater, he opened the window to let the fresh cold morning air in. It wasn’t until he had settled comfortably into a workflow and even lit a cinnamon-scented candle before he remembered that he should probably still be upset over being blown off from a dinner date last night.

Instead, he felt strangely at peace. Going to the Italian restaurant, laughing with Sirius, and eating pizza had seemed to wash away his troubles, and he wasn’t going to complain if it took a surprisingly short amount of time to feel normal again. After writing a chapter and a half, it was time to leave for his breakfast with the girls.

As Remus walked out of his apartment building, he tossed his jacket over his shoulder and almost skipped down the sidewalk–– tiramisu safely in hand–– with joy. Something about the day just felt good.

Walking into the breakfast nook, he spotted his friends already seated at a table.

“Marls! Dorcas!” He greeted them warmly, giving each of them a side-hug.

Dorcas responded with a “Hey, babe!” While Marlene fixed him with a look.

“You,” she said, index finger pointing at his chest, “are absolutely glowing.”

Remus’s cheeks began to turn red, a lingering side effect of any attention whatsoever being directed towards him. His smile stayed in place though. “What, no I’m not.”

“Why do you look so happy?”

“Also,” he drew out the word, talking over Marlene, “I brought you a gift!” Remus handed over the box containing last night’s tiramisu, previously concealed by his jacket.

“Oh my god, this looks so good.” Dorcas said, eyeing the dessert.

Marlene started to close the box again when Dorcas made a noise of protest. “What?” She asked, laughing. “We have to wait until after we eat breakfast.”

“No we most certainly do not, we are adults!” Dorcas protested, and reopened the box.

Conversation flowed comfortably between the three of them, updating each other on the events of the past week. For every minute of serious conversation, there seemed to be two more of random banter, staccatoed with flicking straw wrappers and play-fighting when Dorcas or Marlene wanted to prevent the other from telling a funny story at the expense of her girlfriend. After Marlene all but tackled Dorcas to successfully pass her phone to Remus–– displaying a video of a wine-drunk Dorcas driving backwards in Mario Kart, her face dropping in shock when Marlene’s voice from behind the camera points out that she is in last place–– they got disdainfully frowned at from a tourist family and an old married couple. James would have been proud.

Eventually, Dorcas brought the conversation back to Remus’s cancelled date. “So, Marls is right, you are glowing, and I love that, but tell us about last night. You don’t seem upset about it?”

Remus shrugged. “Well, yeah, I mean it sucked waiting around for the dinner date that never happened, but if it wasn’t meant to be then there’s really no use losing sleep over it, I suppose.”

Dorcas looked mildly impressed by his answer.

“Plus, I salvaged the evening by treating myself to pizza at the Italian restaurant right by my apartment. That’s where your pre-breakfast dessert hailed from.”

Marlene looked at the now-empty to-go box in surprise. “Wow, I love how we just devoured that and didn’t even ask you where it came from. I don’t think I even said thanks?”

“Don’t worry babe, we were doing him a favor. Remus hates soggy cake.” Dorcas stated confidently.

Remus laughed. “You’re welcome,” he said, looking only at Marlene. “But yeah, I wish the waiter knew that about me. I would be totally happy with any other free dessert, but I guess tiramisu is their specialty or something.”

“Wait, hold on,” Marlene paused. “Are you saying you didn’t buy this for us? I’m withdrawing my belated thanks.”

“No, no, wait hold on, but to the other part of that sentence,” Dorcas said. “Are you saying a waiter gave you a free dessert?”

“Yeah, he kind of always does.”

“Wait, is he like, flirting with you?”

“No!” Remus said, assuredly, but his cheeks turned warm anyway.

“He gave you a free dessert. He has given you multiple free desserts? That is definitely flirting.”

Remus wanted to protest this statement, somehow, but all he could come up with was a strangled sort of noise.

Marlene seemed encouraged by his obvious embarrassment. “Oh my god, you’re going to fall in love and make babies with the help of modern science. Your baby is going to like tiramisu and be born with the personality of an old man. Half you and half waiter boy.”

“What’s his name what’s his name what’s his name,” Dorcas parroted, poking him in the arm with each question.

“Absolutely not.” Remus answered. Having already witnessed Dorcas’s impressive online stalking skills, he wasn’t about to give her a name as unique as Sirius. “Besides, uh,” his tone softened, “honestly I think he only brings me desserts because he feels sorry for me.”

Dorcas’s playful smile dropped. “Oh, Remus,” she began, “don’t sell yourself short.”

Marlene nodded with her, but mercifully changed the subject a minute later.

***

Remus shifted in his seat as his phone vibrated once, signifying an incoming text message. He was in his daily meeting with the other writers for the newspaper. They had just wrapped up the business side of the meeting, and had moved on to the fun side: presenting the best (worst?) reader comments from their online stories.

“Okay, okay, my turn,” the room quieted as Minerva spoke up. She was one of the older writers, and had been at the paper for almost ten years now. Everyone respected (and possibly feared) her, but Remus had immediately connected with her after they locked eyes during a lunch break to discover that they were both reading the newest Margaret Atwood novel and sipping Earl Grey tea. “On my article covering the shopping mall that tried to prevent breastfeeding in public, Ken M. wrote ‘aside from being completely unnecessary, breastfeeding encourages babies to objectify women.’”

The room burst into laughter, and Remus took the opportunity to subtly check his phone. Sure enough, it was Roy, the man he had been messaging for the last few days, and had even moved from Tinder’s chat platform to real texting. He smiled, but turned the phone to Do Not Disturb until the meeting was over.

“Ken M. strikes again!” Someone else announced.

“Ken M. deserves his own column, I swear.” A voice from the back of the room chimed in. “This man comments something completely ridiculous on every post. On my piece on updated bus routes he got into an argument with someone else, and I didn’t read all the comments to know how it got there, but Ken M. ended their dispute with, and I quote, ‘God is a ridiculous myth.’”

Remus laughed along with his coworkers, and took a moment to enjoy the fun banter. He loved his job for his career, but also enjoyed the little positive moments that arose from his sudden move to the big city: meeting Minerva, discovering the infamous Ken M., and laughing along with his coworkers during a meeting. His old job had been at a small newspaper where the main source of workplace laughter was Remus silently laughing at the incompetence of his coworkers, not his readers.

As the meeting ended and people began to file out of the room, he pulled out his phone. Roy told Remus he wanted to take him to his favorite restaurant on Saturday night, and Remus happily agreed to meet him in front of the Pike Place Market neon sign at 6:30. The restaurant was a short walk from there, and Remus was glad he didn’t have to awkwardly refuse getting into the car with someone he didn’t know on a first date.

I want the restaurant to be a surprise, Roy had sent, but do you have any dietary restrictions? Remus appreciated his foresight, and answered with, I’m vegetarian, but I eat pretty much anything otherwise! Remus took a moment to smile dopily after receiving a quick response: perfect.

Remus was excited for the date. Roy was very handsome, with curly blond hair, soft blue eyes, and dimples. He was also, if his profile was to be trusted, very accomplished.

***

The date was horrible. Roy kept most of the conversation centered on himself and his many achievements. Remus noticed that his eyes were actually brown, and while Remus had nothing against brown eyes, seeing as he had a pair of them himself, he couldn’t help but feel weirded out by the fact that Roy, or Gilderoy, as he referred to himself in the third person, had taken the time to edit or filter his eye color in all of his online photos.

By the time they arrived at the restaurant, Remus had already reminded himself over and over that it was just one date, and that even if it was disappointing, he would have a good story to tell later, and he didn’t feel unsafe at all. His friends had his phone’s location, and Dorcas had already assured him that she would “track down and throw from the Space Needle” any man who tried to harm Remus.

Remus tried to muster a polite smile as Roy told him about his obviously fabricated second meeting with Oprah, but his smile completely dropped when he read the front of his menu. They were at a steakhouse.

Their waitress approached, saving Remus from whatever monologue he was about to be subjected to. “What can I get started for you guys tonight?” She sounded bored, which Remus was willing to credit her for, as he understood working in the food industry was not exactly glamorous, but he still stupidly thought of Sirius’s excitement as he waited tables.

Roy had the nerve to try to order for Remus. Remus cut him off and appealed to the waitress. “I’m sorry, I realize you probably don’t get that many vegetarians here, but are there any vegetarian menu items?”

“You’re vegetarian?” The waitress said in surprise.

Remus didn’t expect that response, but he turned directly to Roy as he answered, “yes.”

***

An hour later, Remus was finally free of Roy. The aggravating man had offered to pay for the whole meal, with a public brandishing of his multiple credit cards, but Remus insisted they split it, just to ensure that no one thought he owed him anything. Remus wanted to never see this man again, and if that meant paying for half of a check that consisted of one expensive filet mignon and one cheap side salad, then it was well worth it.

Remus said goodbye in the midst of the Public Market, and then walked away. The last thing he wanted to do was get walked home by the insufferable man and have to listen to him, or worse, have to listen to him invite himself upstairs. As he walked home, he blocked Roy’s phone number, for good measure, and deleted the Tinder app from his phone. He dully realized that if he wanted to deactivate his account for good he would need to redownload the app first, but the symbolism felt nice in the moment.

Composure carried Remus inside his apartment building and up the stairs, but after finally locking his door behind him, he started crying. It was stupid really, and thinking that the idiot he wasted one evening with was making him cry only made him cry harder. His tears were out of frustration more than sadness.

He was frustrated that he couldn’t find a decent man on Tinder. He was frustrated that some asshole took him to a fucking steakhouse after knowing he was a vegetarian. He was frustrated because for whatever reason, he was alone on a Saturday night, again, and he very well may be alone on all future Saturday nights, because his ex-boyfriend decided that he didn’t love him anymore. What was even worse to think about, somehow, was that Remus didn’t even want his ex-boyfriend back. It would be so simple, he thought, to simply miss him, and hope that he would change his mind, and Remus could move back to his little college town and get his old job back at the small newspaper and compromise his life away. But he didn’t even want that anymore. Instead, he had to navigate the world not knowing if there was anyone that he could build a life with, all the while wasting his time on losers like Roy. And he was frustrated because he was hungry, having eaten only a small side salad for dinner.

Fueled by hunger and frustrated tears, he got up, grabbed his journal and pocketed a pen, made a halfhearted effort to wipe the tears from his face, and didn’t bother to change out of his date clothes before he headed out to go eat some comfort food.

He started crying a bit on his way to the restaurant, but it was dark outside and the anonymity of the large city granted some comfort. By the time he got to the restaurant, he was mostly calmed down, and just wanted to eat his pizza in silence, and process his emotions through writing them down in the journal he brought.

It was surprisingly busy at the restaurant for being so late on a Saturday night, and Remus took advantage of that fact to quietly slip into a booth as far away from Sirius’s normal section that he could. Remus didn’t think he would be able to keep up with Sirius’s banter, or familiarity, or free tiramisu tonight. Until he had taken the time to process his night on paper, he didn’t want to have to talk to anyone he knew. After a minute of solitude, a middle-aged waitress approached his table: success. He placed his order and went back to his journal.

As always, he started to feel better almost immediately after he started writing. Once he came to a good stopping point, he paused to look up, and drank some of the cold water the waitress had brought earlier. A few deep breaths later and he was feeling almost like a real human again.

Just then, a familiar voice sounded from behind him.

“Hey there.” Sirius’s voice sounded warm, as always, but slightly hesitant too.

“I brought you something, uh, I saw that your pizza just went in the oven, so it’s still going to be a few minutes.” He placed a small platter of roasted green beans to the side of Remus’s journal, and gave a tentative smile.

Remus had a quick fleeting thought of do you think I don’t eat enough vegetables? But, he realized how tasty they looked and how hungry he was. He felt his eyes water slightly as he tore his gaze from the gifted appetizer back up to Sirius.

“Do you feel sorry for me?” Remus asked, suddenly, “because I’m always alone?”

Sirius’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Remus was almost as surprised as he was, for having verbalized the question that had popped into his mind at the moment. He supposed he meant to say alone here, in the restaurant, because that is where Sirius sees him, but it worked in the general sense too.

“How could I feel sorry for you,” Sirius said slowly, “when you look that good, even while you’re upset.” Sirius’s confident smile crept back onto his face as he walked away.

Remus watched him in surprise, and after a few seconds Sirius turned suddenly, instantly locking eyes with Remus. Caught. Sirius winked and turned back around again.

Remus frantically texted his friends. He first had to update them on the horrible date he had gone on, and then the friendly interactions he has had with Sirius over the course of his many visits to the restaurant, and finally what Sirius just said.

Marlene: First of all, Dorcas and I are gonna find this Roy guy and kill him, probably

Marlene: Second of all, REMUS! You gave me sexy-waiter-flirtation-tiramisu! What if he had put a love potion in it or something??

James: I think I’m missing something about tiramisu… is that some kind of euphemism??

Remus updated them on the desserts that Sirius had given Remus ever since he first came to the restaurant. He also started to smile again, almost unwillingly, at his friends’ texts. He remarked how much can happen in a night: excitement about a date, frustration during said failed date, sadness afterwards, spiraling into thinking he would never date again, getting flirted with, and eventually laughing as his wonderful friends tried to cheer him up, cheer him on, and just be their wonderfully unique and crazy selves.

Lily: Remus this is a sign! I said meeting someone organically would be the best, and here we are. You’ve been getting flirted with this whole time by someone you met in person!

Dorcas: She’s right, you should totally go for it! He obviously likes you

James: Come on mate, what do you have to lose?

Remus thought for a second, before responding to his support group.

Remus: my emotional support pizza

James: what??

The group convinced him to flirt back, and Remus silenced the phone before Sirius came back with his pizza. Evidently he had taken over his table from the earlier waitress.

“And here at last, one margherita pizza. Careful, it’s pretty hot, fresh out of the oven.” Sirius fiddled with the notepad he wrote orders in after setting the pizza down. “Um, enjoy your pizza.” He turned to walk away.

“Hey,” Remus spoke up, suddenly. Sirius turned around quickly at the sound. Remus’s eyes crinkled with happy mischief. “You too.”

Sirius laughed and continued his walk back to the kitchen.

***

When Sirius brought the check, Remus carefully penned his signature and a twenty percent tip. He idled for a moment, before flipping the receipt over and writing a string of ten digits. He paused for a second again, before adding underneath in neat scrawl “should you choose not to call, we must never speak of this, because I need to be able to eat margherita pizza here on my really bad days.” On a new line underneath, he just wrote “Remus”.

***

Thirty-four minutes later, Remus received a text message from an unknown number.

“Don’t worry Remus, I would never get between a man and his pizza.”

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lessthanthreeman · 3 years

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Personal Post

I just wanted to write this because it’s been on my mind and I find it frustrating how few resources there seem to be about it. With Cinco de Mayo coming up, and Latino media being all around, I’m reminded that I’m technically of mixed descent, which to be clear, I’m pretty proud of. I was raised by my mother and her side of the family who are white through and through so for a majority of my life that’s what I identified as and where a lot of my mannerisms and cultural understanding comes from. I imagine it was probably for the best, particularly growing up on Long Island, especially considering I am VERY white passing.

I never met my father (who was Puerto Rican [though later DNA tests on myself reveal that genetically speaking he was predominantly Spanish, so white Hispanic)] and have no desire to. Literally, the extent of my knowledge about him is that he was ethnically Puerto Rican to some capacity. I genuinely believed that women just got immaculately pregnant on their own until I was 7 as I just assumed I didn’t have a father (it’s somewhat embarrassing to admit, even if I was young and how was I supposed to know? I didn’t understand what was so special about the story of Mary for a long time to put it mildly.).

I remember the night I found out so vividly. I was at a sports practice and the kids were talking about their dads. I proclaimed that I didn’t have one. One of the older kids informed me that that was impossible. I was honestly offended and went to our coach, who I assume didn’t know how to respond or why I would even ask (I don’t blame him), so he told me that I definitely have a father. Again, outraged, when I got back home I asked my mother about it who told me that I did have a father.I asked “Well if I have a father, that means I must be half something else” as she had grown up telling me her half and that the other half was “American” because I was born in America (lmao). She told me that I was Puerto Rican, which I didn’t have a problem with. I didn’t even know where that was (and I guess by some technicalities, she wasn’t wrong in saying I was “American”, just “American Territory”) so that was of little impact to me. I was furious that whoever my father was chose to have no part in my life and I felt nothing but bitterness, so when she asked if I wanted to know more about him, I said no. I still like to keep it that way if I’m being honest. I am still bitter and if the little snippets I’ve heard in hushed tones from my other family is any indication, I don’t want to know more about him even if I wasn’t.

So, I continued to consider myself exclusively white because that’s what other people considered me, that’s how I was raised, that’s what I look like and likely subconsciously because I was bitter and it did benefit me on some level. As it turns out though, my mother has a thing for Hispanic guys (a little weird I guess, maybe a bit fetishistic [I don’t know the extent and I don’t want to know so I can’t say for certain], but good for her I suppose) and she soon after got involved with another guy, my now pseudo-step father in all but legality really. He’s of Mexican and Puerto Rican descent, his father lived in Mexico (and has since gone back of his own volition), his mother (IIRC) lived in Puerto Rico, etc. He’s not deeply associated with his roots, he’s definitely “assimilated” having grown up in New York and California. He speaks broken Spanish, perfect English, and really is an American through and through, save for some more traditional cultural vestiges (which isn’t bad to be clear). He loves chihuahuas, sombreros, maracas, Mexican cuisine, Speedy Gonzalez etc. It’s somewhat superficial and a bit stereotypical, but I understand why he feels a connection to it as a very American man. It’s an easy way for him to very clearly connect to his roots, even if they’re not pieces of great cultural significance. Whether or not it’s problematic, I’m glad it gives him some of the connection he wants to his culture and it makes him proud.

Growing up around him and his kids, I felt a bit like an outsider, and I’ll probably admit, initially I was arrogant. I grew up being an only child (which definitely was a big shift to begin with) and couple that with the fact that I was still at that time an academic golden child in traditionally very (BIG quotes here) “polite” (Read: white) environments, I didn’t really jive with my brothers for a long time. As things went on though, I had my golden kid breaking point, crashed out a bit, eventually my mom moved in with him bringing me in tow, and I mellowed out a bit as I got over some teenage angst. During that time, I never fully connected with the heritage because it wasn’t mine, I’m not Mexican, but I understood and appreciated it. I can earnestly say, it is one of the cultures that I am the most fascinated and captivated by. I can go on and on and wax poetic about the historical achievements of Native peoples of Central America, their food, their ability to weather adversity, and their faith that things will get better. The culture is so much deeper than the “illegal immigrants” and cartel ties that we’re constantly shown in media, and I’m glad that to an extent things are slowly shifting to show the humanity of the people. But anyway, tangents aside, I’m still very culturally white and white passing, albeit with a better understanding of Latino cultures.

As more and more time goes on though, I am starting to feel like I’m a bit disconnected from a part of my culture and heritage, but I feel uncomfortable claiming it. Not because I don’t want people to know that I’m Hispanic, I have no issue with that, in fact I love whipping out that I’m sleeper Hispanic with a Hispanic family when people think they’re safe to be a little racist with me before I call them out on it. The reason is just because I don’t feel Hispanic enough and I’m too white, and it’s something I’ve struggled with for a while, but it becomes more and more obvious to me as time goes on. I understand that this is a really common issue for people of mixed races, particularly for those with mixed heritage upbringings. They feel adrift between two worlds and people are always looking for a way to categorize them into their preexisting schemas of how we view race in America. Some of what these people say when I’m looking for it resonates with me, but a lot of it also doesn’t. It’s not because my life is harder or I’m special or anything, but it is a very particularly niche scenario. I grew up almost exclusively white, it’s difficult for me to convince a lot of people that I’m more than white, I grew up with white privilege, and I never really had a Hispanic/Latino experience.

I want to be clear, this isn’t me crying about being white, particularly also being male, cis, and generally het. It’s been a privilege for sure that’s opened up a lot of doors that wouldn’t have otherwise been open to me, I’m sure, and I wish I could extend those same rights, opportunities, and safeties to everybody. That said, I feel like a complete outsider to those roots and feel dirty claiming them. Like I’m taking it away, diluting, or appropriating those cultural celebrations from the people who really deserve them. My experiences with the people and the culture is that they’re ecstatic to share it and have people take an interest in it. It’s generally very inclusive, friendly, and they love to treat you (or at least me as a very small boyish looking man) like family. It’s genuinely awesome. I can’t not think of myself as the generic white dude who works a boring office job and says every Spanish word with the whitest accent possible (to be clear I do work an office job, but I do a pretty solid job of pronunciation with EXCELLENT R rolls, trills, etc.) invading a space not made for me.

It’s a really complex topic, one that’s hard to fully articulate, which is what I’ve seen is a consistent thread in writings from mixed race individuals talking about their experiences. I’m friends with a surprisingly large amount of white passing Puerto Rican mixed race people and you’d think I’d talk about it more with them, but no. I probably should, but it’s a personal and somewhat intimate topic to just suddenly spring on people. For now though, I suppose I’m content to observe and appreciate Latin-X culture and people “from a distance” and amplify their voices as much as I can as a white passer.

#personal #mixed race

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thatdisastrousfangirl-writes · 4 years

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The Other Way Chapter 13: Almost There

Chapter 1 - Last Chapter - Next Chapter

A/N HOLY $%!& AN UPDATE!!! I DID IT!! It’s not quite the last chapter as I had hoped but the next one will be and hopefully (fingers crossed) I won’t take as long to finish it xD Knowing me though and my habit of procrastinating everything I do I have my doubts but it Will Happen! Eventually :p Any who won’t take up any more of your time hope you enjoy ^-^ (also very quick reminder I am posting all this on AO3 if you’d rather read it there okay thanks bye!)

~~~

Ever since the rather brutal realisation that should they fail to find the portal Dipper might permanently disappear, the group had been moving even more emphatically than before. Alcor was at the head, floating around erratically trying to find even a hint of the extra magic an inter-dimensional portal would have, with the twins just behind him, sticking close together hand in hand, neither willing to lose the other, and Wren a little further behind, watching everyone’s backs.

They all walked quietly, keeping an eye out for any indication of potential danger or even better the portal itself. The silence, however, was beginning to get on Mabel’s nerve. With every step she took with that oppressive silence hanging over her head Mabel felt a step closer to breaking down in front of everyone.

This whole train wreck of an experience had royally sucked from day one, and it was in the silence that every little -and big- dilemma was getting harder to ignore. Their ‘adventure’ had begun with being kidnapped and had only seemed to go downhill from there, leading to the current situation where there was a chance she would be the only one getting to go home. Honestly if the universe -or multiverse, she guessed- was a person Mabel could talk to, she would ask them what was up with all the hate and pain they were inflicting on her brother. It was just plain unfair really. And now all she wanted to do was curl up and cry out, but they had to keep moving and they had to keep focusing on the task at hand.

Just as Mabel felt herself begin to spiral she felt a tug on her hand and looked up.

“Hey, you okay?” asked Dipper, concern plainly written on his face. “You’re being weirdly quiet.”

Mabel opened her mouth to deny it, to say she’s just trying to not distract Alcor from finding the portal, and that she should really be asking him if he’s okay, what with the whole, the universe doesn’t like him thing, but the look on Dipper’s face stopped her.

“I just want to go home,” she whispered, eyes shimmering. “And I wish none of this was happening and that you weren’t disappearing, or hurting, but you are and,” Mabel paused, looking down at her dirt covered shoes taking her forward. “I don’t know what to do.”

They continued to move in silence for a few seconds, when Dipper spoke up. “Well,” he said, getting his sister's attention, “I don’t really know what to do either, and I’m still here, now. You’re not alone in this,” he finished, bumping his shoulder against her own.

“I suppose so,” Mabel hummed, a small smile twitching at the corners of her lips.

“We’ll be alright,” Dipper said, looking up at Alcor, who continued to guide them. “You know, I bet we’ll find that portal any minute now,” he added with a small smile of his own.

Mabel gave him a happy but sceptical glance. “Really?” she asked.

He gave her a mildly panicked look that said ‘not in the slightest’ and Mabel couldn’t help but laugh.

“Okay well maybe not any minute.”

As the two of them continued joking around Mabel felt just a little lighter. Dipper was right, they still had each other, and at the end of the day that’s all they really needed.

~~~

“So, Alcor,” Wren said, sounding not the least bit frustrated, “not to be that person but are we any closer to finding the portal yet?” They had now been seemingly wandering around the forest for what felt like forever but was probably closer to an hour, and it was beginning to feel like they would never find the portal.

Mabel had been feeling better about everything after talking to Dipper, but even with his reassurance - which was a weird enough feeling considering it was usually her trying to lift spirits - it was difficult to stay hopeful the longer they didn’t find anything.

Alcor stopped moving for second, face scrunched up in the way Mabel recognised as Dipper’s thinking face, just older and more demonic. “Maybe,” he said after a moment, turning to the side and pointing towards a faint path hidden underneath the looming trees. “This way.”

“You sure?” Dipper asked as the group began moving again, no small amount of hope weaving its way into his voice. “Are we actually getting closer?”

Grinning Alcor turned to his smaller counterpart. “I think so!” he responded. “It wasn’t easy to tell but a bit back I began to sense the kind of magical energy you’d get from an interdimensional portal.” He paused, before awkwardly adding “I assume. The only other interdimensional portal I actually saw was back before the Transcendence and let’s just say I was significantly weaker than.”

“So we’ll be home soon?” Mabel asked, her own hope rising yet again as if on an emotional yoyo.

“I don’t doubt it,” said Alcor, giving her a comforting smile.

Wren did not seem convinced however, as she moved in closer to the group. “Is this really the right way Alcor?” she asked, hand placed on her gun holster ready for action, looking around anxiously. “‘Cause I’m beginning to get a bad feeling about this place.”

“What kind of bad feeling?” Dipper squeaked, tensing up by Mabel’s side.

“It’s hard to explain,” explained Wren. “Sometimes I just get a feeling about a person or in this case a place, and right now it’s not a good feeling.”

“Well I am definitely sure this is the right direction,” Alcor insisted, before hesitating, “I feel the same way though, probably a good idea to keep an eye out for any potential danger.”

“What, like you?” she retorted, a slight grin pulling at the corner of her lips.

“Ha ha very funny,” he deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “You know what I mean, just don’t get distracted and keep watching our surroundings. I’ll keep an eye out myself.”

Mabel thought about what Wren and Alcor said as they continued moving ever deeper into the forest. What kind of danger though? she thought. What kind of bad feeling? her mind questioned. She was sure Alcor wasn’t wrong when he said they were getting closer to the portal, but what if they were walking into something dangerous? What if there was something between them and the portal that stopped Dipper and herself from going through? It was only Dipper’s hand in hers that stopped Mabel from spiralling. If he, of all people, could look on the bright side, surely it would be alright.

~~~

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before Alcor froze, holding his hand up to signal to the others to do the same.

Dipper groaned at the sudden stop, frowning he said “Alcor what-“

“Quiet!” he hissed, interrupting Dipper, his ears twitching as if straining to listen to something nearby.

As they stood and listened the faint sound of movement ahead of them drew closer, and closer.

“I suggest everyone hides, like, right now,” Alcor whispered, his form beginning to fade slightly as he spoke.

“What? Why?” the others asked, alarm clear in all their voices.

The demon turned to them, form flickering between corporeal and not, growling “Now damnit!”

With that Alcor grabbed Dipper and Mabel under their arms, much to their respective annoyed confusion and sudden uncertainty for what was going on (not to mention a slight fear of heights) and whisked them up into the branches of a nearby tree. Wren moved just as quickly, rushing to hide within an overgrown bush down by another trees' large roots. Alcor continued to float near the twins, turning into an almost invisible, humanoid haze as the noise drew closer.

The source of the sound stepped into view. Two people wearing long, dark green flowing robes covering their bodies, deep hoods hiding their faces, and each holding sizeable guns pointed at the path the four of them had been following just before. While silently panicking, wondering who these people were and what they could possibly be doing here, Dipper had to wonder what it was with this universe and cultists, because surely that was what these people were. This was the third lot of cultists he and Mabel had encountered in as many days, and it was getting ridiculous!

The taller of the two began to look around, while the shorter one stood guard, their finger tapping their weapon impatiently.

“Are you sure you even heard something? There’s nothing here,” the short one said, watching their partner search behind the bush next to Wren’s.

The tall one tensed up, turning to their partner, voice dripping with frustration as they said “Yes I did, and it was definitely over here!” They spun back around continuing their search, moving ever closer to Wren and her hiding spot. She held her breath as she felt some of the leaves near her face move and the cultists' search got closer, hands tightening into fists, ready to fight.

“You know it was probably just a couple gnomes right?” the short one scoffed, interrupting their taller partner's search. “Come on, we have enough to do as it is without chasing a couple meaningless pests. We’re going back, now.”

“But-”

“Did I stutter? There’s work to do, now come on!”

The tall one, visibly sulking, shuffled after their shorter partner back down the vague path they both came from. The hidden group stayed where they were, quiet and still, waiting for the sound of walking and huffing to disappear into the distance, sure that whoever those cultists were would not come back.

“Are they gone?” Dipper whispered, hesitant, as if scared of alerting the two cultists of their presence, despite the distance between the two groups.

Alcor returned to view, his form becoming solid once again as he helped the twins down from the tree. “Yeah, they should be well out of hearing range now,” he said softly.

Coming out from within the bush she had been hiding in, stray twigs and leaves sticking out of her hair, Wren looked down towards where they had been heading, the same way the cultists went. “You sure Alcor? That was pretty close,” she cautioned, turning to look at him.

“Yeah, just, don’t start yelling and they shouldn’t come back.”

“Who were they?” Mabel asked, looking up at Alcor herself, Dipper following suit.

“They looked like they were part of the Cult of Stultus”

The three humans gave him a blank stare, and Alcor sighed. “Right, you wouldn’t know. They’re a cult dedicated to the idea that there are multiple realities beyond this one, and finding some way of getting to them,” he explained.

“That explains why they’d be interested in a portal,” Wren remarked, looking thoughtful. “Does that mean they’d be happy to help? Get these two home that is?”

Alcor gave Wren a questioning look. “You did see their weapons right? What do you think?”

“I was just thinking if they liked other universes they’d want to help.”

“Stars no! I never said they liked other realities. The Cult of Stultus is obsessed with finding a way of getting to other dimensions so they can destroy them! It’s some kind of weird universal superiority type thing.”

“Well that’s just great,” Dipper said, voice filled with sarcasm. “How are we supposed to get to the portal now?”

With a sly smile and a spark in his eyes, Alcor began moving, following the path the cultists had taken moments before. “We’ll just have to figure it out before we get there I suppose.”

#transcendence au #reversed transdimensional au arc #gravity falls #alcor #dipper and mabel #fanfic #the other way #this took way to long to write #can you tell by the slightly abrupt ending I wanted this chapter over and done with #See you all again in eight-ish months #x)

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justformyself2 · 4 years

Text

San Francisco (Part Two)

Click here for Part One.

Hi, guys. It has been long, but it is finally here. I’m pretty happy to be posting this one and I hope you feel happy reading it.

There is going to be a part three, so stick around in case you like this one.

I have other stories if you want to check those out (i have to make a masterlist, but it easy to find them)

If you have a request or just want to chat send me an ask.

special tag @lullabieswrappedinlies

if you want to be tagged, let me know.

Before you jump in, be advised:

. There is some cursing words, some f-bombs.

. Consumption of alcohol.

cccccccccc

"Morning guys." Dex greets enthusiastically, before bowing down to place a kiss on his bride-to-be's cheek.

You are staring too much, but you can't miss the view.

The gift of ignorance was a delicacy underappreciated, at least while it lasts. It would make you eternally grateful if Rachel could keep everything to herself till ten years later. She will be sitting at her fancy dinner table, arrived from France, laughing too much because of that one bottle of old wine, from another place in Europe, maybe from Spain, she won't remember quite well. Then after recovering from laughing, putting the last sip of wine on her glass, she will tell him the story. With a sad, mildly drunk expression, Dexter would stop laughing.

"Morning." You respond.

She smiles at him and goes back to reading the newspaper.

Rachel was good at this, controlled, on the surface, as a lawyer should be. It brings a mixture of fear and thankfulness, that hid underneath itself another problem that walked into the kitchen.

"Hey, just so you know, Claire is coming today, she just called." Her mouth moves and her eyes don't lookup.

Dex sighs and you get up with the last spoon of cereal still laying on your tongue. You take the bowl and go towards the sink, planning to stay a long time with your back turned.

"Morning everybody."

It was visible the tiredness in his voice, tone low and deep, while you washed the white ceramic bowl in auto mode.

"Morning." Dex and Rachel responded together, laughing afterward.

"That's cute."

A chair's screech filled the room before a previous subject arose again.

"So, she is really coming?"

Dex sounded worried.

"What, who is coming?" Now Ethan was worried too.

But why would he be worried about who was coming when he will be leaving tonight?

"Claire," Rachel says neutrally as before.

You place the bowl and the spoon carefully on the dish rack and spin back, spotting Ethan for the first time in the morning since you woke up to an empty bed.

He stares from the not very long distance, with no longevity, because you cut it right away going towards the door, a way out to the porch, out to where random people were laying in the sand.

Harsh winds of the morning shaping up weaves. You have to pay attention to that, to anything at all other than your head.

You sit at the wooden bench, that didn't quite match the rest of the design on the porch next to a luxurious white couch, a unique setting for a suffering old seat that didn't belong. The best guess, could it be someone's favorite? Why wouldn't they throw it away when they thought about putting a much better couch beside it? Why did it remind you of the ones in San Francisco?

"What the fuck am I thinking?"

"Am I interrupting something?"

Dex leans over, and your heart skips a beat from his sudden appearance.

He was observing. God knows for how long.

"No, I'm just thinking out loud, like a normal person."

He laughs, while you tried to shake the uncomfortable off, and takes a seat next to you.

The next thing was silence, what you observed to happen a lot when Dex would talk to anyone other than Rachel, something normal considering you two barely knew each other, but still. Dex was the type to slip under radar if it wasn't for his looks. He was quiet, polite, unlike the stereotypes set for someone on his position, he possessed some of the same traits Rachel had, good traits, that combined make them good people if you could only erase all the cheating behavior Ethan mentioned.

Now you see why his ex-fiancé wouldn't suspect them at all.

Yet, it was none of your business, and the only thing that kept you involved in this world was the one that wasn't sitting on this bench with you.

"It is a good view right?"

Dex asks, and it is clear that making small talk wasn't his thing, and you were on the same level right now. Smiles appear to compensate.

"Yes, it is amazing."

You breathe in, deep. It could be some type of nervous vibe easy to detect, hovering, or you were projecting.

"So, you and Ethan... You guys look good together."

"Oh, you think so?"

Your mouth open's in surprise, genuine surprise.

Before advancing to a judgment that could compromise, you try to relax and answer as naturally as possible.

"Yeah, I thought he was... Nevermind-." Dex interrupts the took, shaking his head and looking down at his feet.

"Gay?" You completed with confidence, spotting a mix of surprise and discomfort in the way he smiled back.

"Yeah. To be fair, Ethan gives the vibe sometimes." You continued, knowing that Dex was probably confused, reminiscing Ethan's lie about being gay so Claire would leave him alone, and the fool never cleared it out before moving to London.

Something bumps into the door, somewhat aggressively, and the first thing you recognized was the hand.

"What are you guys gossiping about out here?"

Ethan comes out to the porch, exchanging looks towards you and Dex, taking the space left between the two of you.

"I was just saying to (y/n) that I think you two make a great couple."

"Oh, you think so?"

Ethan responds, reclining his back against the bench and puts an arm around your neck. It is all that it takes to remind you why you escaped to the porch in the first place.

"And we were also talking about your gay vibes, babe."

"What?" He looks at you, confused.

"Yeah, like when you said you were gay to drive Claire away, like the mastermind player that you are. That is like, his thing Dex. He loves doing stuff like that-."

You incline forward to look at Dex, but Ethan blocks the view. His arm traps your body next to his chest, and you were obliged to stand up with him.

"Okay, babe. Do you want to take a walk on the beach? Hun? Dex, catch you later, bud." You don't resist since that at some point it all had to be addressed.

Ethan loosens the grip while you both were walking down the four steps. His hand travels down your arm slowly, and before you could cross them, he beats you by the timing and takes your hand.

You wait for a fair distance before taking your hand back.

"What was all that?"

Ethan asks. The audacity of the annoyed tone he used makes you start to walk faster in front of him.

"Does it matter? we are leaving tonight, right?"

"No, we're not leaving."

You stopped and turned around. Ethan faces you with both hands on his hips. You waited for some confirmation that he was messing with you.

"Ethan."

"Look, I talked to Rachel this morning, I apologized, and she decided to forget all it. It is going to be weird if I suddenly left. I'm her best friend."

"Oh, so that's why you left me this morning? To go talk to Rachel."

"I'm only trying to fix this, find an answer to make this right."

You complete the steps that separated both of you, being centimeters away from his face and the way he observed you.

"Look. Do what you want to do, every crazy pathetic thing you want, to get a woman that doesn't want you but don't use me and leave me like I'm nothing because I'm not your rebound anymore, Ethan."

You breathe in, feeling your chest rise and the beats of your heart multiply by the second. Suddenly there wasn't control over thoughts or words. Everything wanted to break loose.

"Are you even listening to yourself right now? 'I'm her best friend.' You mocked. " Stop using this bullshit to excuse what you are thinking. The answer is Dex, Rachel is not choosing you. She never did, not then and not now. You should do yourself a favor and get the fucking hint already Ethan."

You wanted to explode, wanted to scream. It wasn't the first time this same conversation took place between both of you, and yet, you were waiting for a different outcome that never happened before. It was useless. You saw it in his eyes. You saw it in the way he walked right past you and didn't look back.

(Ethan POV.)

There is something worse about positive emotions. Something buried underneath, and It's ugly, blinds you, makes you live in denial for a very long time, till it turns the question 'What the fuck am I doing?', into a daily mantra from a bad religion.

I asked this more times than it is possible to count. I asked a thousand times while I was doing my bags, and another thousand while I was on the plane watching (y/n) asleep. I asked it again for a couple more thousand times when I saw Rachel, and since then it has been a background sound for my thoughts, the usual ones she belonged.

Her face. Her laugh, ever-living memories, that insisted themselves on my central vision like jumping ghosts, obliging me to keep feeding my brain with any distraction. Sinking myself with work till numbness almost did the thing, but the closest I came to the remedy was (y/n).

That one night, I went out to the bar on my block, not feeling like me anymore after diagnosing myself with derealization through a quick search on google. The impression of furniture moving convinced me to run away from the claustrophobic place that became that apartment.

It all happened at some time past one in the morning, at the right time and place to meet someone like her, someone very different from me. I guess, just what I need it.

The crisp vision of things gives you a perspective, but she never centered around only one thing. (Y/N) was always in movement while I was still ruminating about Rachel and what I couldn't let go.

When the post-coital conversation started flowing, after weeks of our same scheme passed by, I realized that not everything was cold with (y/n), only the way she perceived love. The way she rolled her eyes when I talked about it, but not the way she makes it, which can make one confused at first and be careful at least.

I had reasons to strongly believed in my immunity because I knew I was still in love with Rachel. That was what my brain reminded me on the daily, being in love with an unavailable person was becoming a personality trait instead of a problem to be dealt with it, and it was that I accepted. Only at San Francisco, when I made no attempts to contact Rachel, I realized too late that I had mixed the medicine with alcohol, and now they had the same effect.

All of the past mess, mixing with the habit of sweeping things under the rug, made me start thinking about ending everything. Still, a burden compounded with a miracle came when we got back from San Francisco, and we discovered to be new working partners. The universe seemed to have done everything for me, except providing the answer I was still looking for when Rachel's wedding invitation arrived. I was about to mix the medicine with alcohol all over again.

When they hugged at the airport, my stomach ran laps. 'What the fuck am I doing?'. The mantra comes back again.

"Can I take your order, sir?"

A redhead girl, holding a notepad, appeared next to the table I occupied. Her Blythe doll eyes blinking at me.

How long was she there while I rewind all the past regrets only God knows.

"Sorry. I'm... I'm waiting for someone before ordering."

I simulate my way out of the situation with a smile. My wallet was at home, and it was a good thing because it was too early to drink something distilled.

"Oh, okay. I'll just leave the menu here."

She left two menus over the white cloth before leaving with a condescending smile.

I decided to spare some time. I faked looking at my clock and looking around at random times as if I waited for someone very tardy before I left the table. The Blythe doll eyes must be cursing me, and I deserve it.

The sun outside, hitting my eyes was already alarming hot, or London made me a stranger to the feeling of warmth. I look behind me, but there is only the bridge, and random people passing by.

It felt familiar to the place where Rachel and I spend time together, but like everything else after a while became a blur under what happened that night.

I can replay it quickly while continuing to walk with no destination.

It happened when Rachel smiled and ordered a Heineken. I was explaining the order to myself, controlling my eyes and planing my words, usually with gastric reflux would be burning the walls of my stomach, but now the house was quiet.

I was alone with her, after years, after long years and miserable scenarios played inside my head, and now there was total silence, the silence of death.

"What?"

Rachel asked, still smiling, brightly, I loved that fucking smile, I loved.

I loved.

"We need to talk."

#john krasinski #fanfiction #fanfic #story #imagine #john krasinski imagine #something borrowed #interative imagine #interative #imagination #original #i hope i didnt wrote something wrong #lol #mine #god i'm hungry #i hope you enjoy

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praise-suns-and-chill · 4 years

Text

Tagged by @ariela-of-aedyr! Don’t quite know who else to tag, really ^^° So with that, get really for a LOOOOOOOOOONG post after the cut x3

(The one in the Middle!)

name ➔ Maevina Alagadda! Originally, Mae mes Rei

are you single ➔ I am working on it. Working on not beign single, I mean.

are you happy ➔ Overall, yes! I love the sea, I love my friends, my life thus far, that my brother still lives, and I am only mildly stressed with the end of the world possibly oncoming! But I am working on that too!

are you angry ➔ Only at very specific people!

are your parents still married ➔ I do not even know who my father was, and I cannot remember my mother, me and my brother were bought as infants.

NINE FACTS

birth place ➔ A duchy in Old Vailia. Don’t think the name will tell you much, especially since the previous rules... Kicked the bucket, a while ago, and since then they are working on maybe renaming the place.

hair colour ➔ More, smoke colour. Black to grey!

eye colour ➔ You tell me, buddy. Wish I knew!

birthday ➔ Ehehehe... Hehhhh... Good question.

mood ➔ Content, quietly screaming inside, but really only quietly.

color scheme ➔ I personally like dark colours, dark red, green, blue, don’t matter to me! And yellow, sometimes, if I am feeling fancy!

gender ➔ Woman. Lady. Lass.

summer or winter ➔ Summer, most definitely. It’s warm, everything is a bit easier, it’s comfortable and there are flowers.

morning or afternoon ➔ Afternoon. I am not exactly an early riser, despite what you may think.

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ I think. I am figuring it out. I don’t have any experience with this kinda stuff, I apologize.

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ I do believe in attraction at first sight! But I think actual love needs a bit of time.

who ended your last relationship ➔ ...I never had one. Please do not judge me. I was busy.

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ I do not think so. To be perfectly honest, I highly doubt many people would have interest in... my type, to begin with. It’s not exactly a common thing. I don’t think I ever hurt any feelings in that direction.

are you afraid of commitments ➔ Nah, I am fine. I mean, I was committed to my duty, despite it being forced on me, afterwards committed to fleeing when my master changed, then committed to figure out my awakened Soul and to fight a thousands of years old Cult Leader, and now I am chasing down a God to stop the end of all live in existence. I think I can stay committed if I want to!

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Yes. If I wouldn’t hug someone a day it would be a wasted day. Als, Vela get’s cuddles every day and every given chance anyways.

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ Have you taken a look at me for longer then five seconds? I HIGHLY doubt so.

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ I like to think that I am simply realistic in this regard. I know my strenghts and weaknesses!

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ Love. It means more. And is easier to get since it has many forms.

lemonade or iced tea ➔ ... I am... Sorry? Cold tea? Who would drink cold tea? Is that a thing?

cats or dogs ➔ I mean. I have a panther, loyal companion to me for many years now, and Ally makes me biased here. Cats!

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ Any friends. Just any friends at all. All friends are good friends!

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ First one is easier! Anyone can get drunk of their hookers! And it tends to be more fun. However, you do already know I am biased here.

day or night ➔ I feel a bit more comfortable at night. It’s calming, quiet, a cool breeze. And you can see the starts, which is also great when you are on the middle of the ocean!

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ Don’t remind me, please! I can still feel the whip from that one time...

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ I once got kicked, if that counts. Otherwise Ally would catch me before I can actually fall.

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ That feelings, I do know. I know it indeed...

wanted to disappear ➔ Surprisingly, not! Most of the time I was content with my life, as weird as it sounds! When I was still a slave I had my brother, and when I was free, I had... well, my freedom! And after that, it only got better, really, and I was happy with having a bigger purpose in life!

been involved in a fight you thought you couldn’t win ➔ One or two times. Usually, I trust my abilities in that regard, and I trust my companions as well!

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ Eyes. You can smile with your eyes, you know! So with eyes, you have both in one!

shorter or taller ➔ Taller. Or same size, really.

intelligence or attraction ➔ As long as they are friendly, I don’t mind if they are lacking in either otherwise!

hook-up or relationship ➔ Relationship, I think.

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ With my brother, yes. Even after years of seperation, I don’t think there is anyone else in the world who knows me better than he does. My niece as well. Since Vela is basically my daughter, and I think I am doing my job as a mother rather well, I would say it’s good there too! Otherwise... I don’t exactly have relatives. None that I know of, at least. Don’t know if my mother still lives or who she even is, don’t know my father either. So with the family that I do have, it’s great!

would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ Mhh... I don’t think so, really. Like sure, some people would put the slave part into the category of “messed up”, but... I prefer to ignore the slavery part of my life during that time, and rather think about how I could grow up more or less safely with my brother, I got my Alcestis, my panther, so I could do my duty as a guard better. AND! I wasn’t even killed at birth! Which is, at least as far as I think, pretty good! After I got free, I spend most of my days just running through the countryside, could smuggle myself on a ship, got a new home, a new purpose in life, friends of course, a lovely daughter too later on, and overall... I am overall happy with how it went!

have you ever ran away from home ➔ I mentioned this previously, right? When I switched masters, and the new one was far more cruel then his father, me and my brother fled and got seperated during it. To put it short, ran away and succeeded!

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ Heh, no.

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ I do sometimes feel a bit stupid around them. And I sometimes feel a bit... well, the opposite of that as well. But I could never hate any of them, I am pretty sure of it!

do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ Not all. But definitely most.

who is your best friend ➔ Edér, I think, if I really need to pick someone. I can simply trust him, no matter what. I stayed in contact with him for the longest time after we got done with Thaos, and during our travels, he already grew on me. He is a very dear friend, one I can be both serious and utterly silly with, and someone I deeply appreciate. I still don’t know how I can ever thank him for just leaving everything as it was the moment he heard Caed Nua fell, just to pick me up, bring me along the entire way and sail across the ocean on a moments notice. I don’t think I can ever make that up to him.

who knows everything about you ➔ My brother, most certainly. Otherwise... It is not like I am shy, or closed off about my personality and previous life. I am pretty open, and it is easy enough to just find out everything about me, really. I do not mind who knows! I have nothing to hide, really. If you want to know something, just ask!

#Watcher Wednesday

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daviddoughbrik · 5 years

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All Mine - D. Dobrik

author’s note: thank you to @thinkaboutdolan for askig me to write about some lyrics from “7 Rings” by Ariana Grande. This is a little weird, I know. I added in some stuff that is a little subby because that seems to be a topic lately 😏.

There she was all cuddled on David like she didn’t know I existed. The jokes on her, though, because Y/N was about to reach a new level of badass bitch.

It was a Saturday night, and everyone was in their usual positions, well most of everyone.

Scott and Kristen were by the beer pong table, dominating anyone who walked within a ten foot radius of the table.

Mariah and Heath were on the dance floor acting like the goofballs they were, stealing the show.

Zane and Corinna getting drinks in the kitchen while Natalie mixed up some more whiskey sour mix.

Todd was no where to be found, as per usual. On these nights, he was everywhere, and Jeff was always right behind him.

Carly and Bruce and Erin and TJ were chilling on the couch, laughing at whatever David could talk people into doing. Well, that is until she showed up.

She was someone you brought into the group after making friends with the squad. She was your best friend at one point, but once she realized you were going after what she wanted and you were winning, she decided to ruin it for you. So there she was, ruining it for you. Or so she thought.

She didn’t know about the hands that caressed your body last night, or all the nights for the past few months, or even five minutes before everyone started to arrive in this place.

She didn’t know about all the parts of you that drive him crazy. These parts make you his kryptonite, and he can’t escape the feeling.

Lately, he’s been obsessed over the nape of your neck. Every night just before the both of you shower, you do a little secret fooling around. He loves when you suck him off, and he loves every tantalizing stroke and repays you by stroking the back of your neck each time.

Every night before bed you put all of your hair in one loose braid, and every night when you lay your head down on your pillow, he spends very hot minutes massaging your shoulders and kissing that sweet, delicate spot.

She doesn’t know about the chokehold you put on his throat when he comes home from being a bad boy. He whimpers with a small smile on his lips every time your hand wraps around his long neck. He loves the way your breath is hot on his cheek as you whisper the dirtiest things in his ear. She doesn’t know how good he looks tied up post to post on your secretly shared bed. She doesn’t know how many times you can edge him until he just pops from you being in the room with him.

She also doesn’t know how crazy you can be. Because if I want it, I got it. David is mine. Only mine. He’s the one thing I can’t buy, and I’ll be damned if she takes him away from me.

“Hey, y/n” she says as I strut by in my red bottoms. “Cute shoes!”

I look her up and down and laugh a little. “Yeah. Ha, thanks. I bought them myself.” I flip my hair and saunter off out the back door making my way to the cars.

I open the trunk of my McLaren, grabbing my black gloves, Louisville slugger, and sugar.

I pour sugar in her gas tank and smash the back left side that would be exposed to cars driving by.

I put my things back in my car and head back inside to where I find her still on my man. You giggle to yourself and walk up to David.

“Here Dave, there’s something on your lip,” you said wiping his lips like there was a crumb on them or something. You lightly stick the tip of your thumb in his mouth. “Ick, sorry. Bad timing!” You laugh wiping his wetness on his hoodie.

Time passes on and you’re getting more anxious by the minute. She won’t get off of him, but you find comfort knowing she’s going to get hers. You recruit Todd and Jeff to go pay the neighbors to delete their security footage just before she decides it’s time for her to leave.

You receive a text from Todd saying all the neighbors took you up on your offer, again. After all, twenty thousand now and twenty more after her car gets fixed is a great deal.

They head back into the house and immediately turn around at the sound of shrieking. “Someone hit my car! Who did it? Oh my god what am I going to do?”

“Oh no! I’m so sorry!” David says as he turns and deadpans at you. You continue your concerned façade. You promise her you’ll get with the neighbors to see if they have any footage. Someone calls her an Uber, and she’s off on her way home to deal with her car in the morning.

Her car damage put a damper on the party, and your friends and strangers start filing out of the house over time. Pretty soon, it’s just you and David. You leave a voicemail for Chiqui before meeting David in the bedroom.

He’s sitting up in bed waiting on you. “Did you put sugar in her gas tank?” He almost laughs at the look on your face confirming everything. “I tasted it on your thumb, but you knew that didn’t you?” He seems mildly upset, but you both know “the universe” will make it up to her. And by that, you mean your random friends setting up a contest where she “wins” a new car, new car, paid for by you, because you couldn’t be that awful and live with yourself.

“She knows I see it, I like it, I got it, I want it. And I wanted you. Over everything, I want you.” He looks up at you, that look in his eyes. “Don’t be upset baby. She got what was coming to her. It’ll be fixed. Don’t worry.”

“What was coming to her... she was just talking—“

“No. I know her. She was trying to win you over. Luckily enough,” you laugh, crossing the room to him,” I get to really win you over.” He smiles his little smile and you reach into the bedside table for the restraints. He lays down and finally, you get to remind him again just how much belongs to you.

#david dobrik #davids vlogs #the vlog squad #vlog #vlog squad #vlogger #david doughbrik #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik imagines #david dobrik angst #vlog squad imagines

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shippertrsh · 5 years

Text

ZackRay Month 2018

Week 2, Day 4: College Days

Warning: this fanfic is rated T for Teen And Up Audiences. Reader discretion is advised.

A/N: See, the real hard part was trying to condense romance into small, multiple snippets while also keeping a small word count (if I don’t limit myself I’ll never stop writing and never post anything lol). Hope you enjoy, I really do. I liked certain parts, but it really does feel a tad abrupt/rushed since I wanted to format it a certain way. Let me know if ya’ll get the vibe~ Enjoy!

“... it’s a blessed thing to love and feel loved in return..”

― E.A. Bucchianeri

It wasn't weird. It was entertaining to say the least. With her around, his mornings began with the rousing smell of roasted coffee beans.

Zack's awake, but tosses in his sheets. He relied on Rachel to wake him up, that way he could sleep in to get his optimized amount of rest.

His door creaks open and his ears catch the faint crackles and pops of bacon on the stove; the smell then slowly invades his room.

“Zack, breakfast is almost ready. Go wash up before you come to the table, okay?”

He begrudgingly leaves the warmth of his bed and grumbles his complaints; however, it's her and he's so weak when it comes to Ray, so he simply does as he's told.

By the time he sits down at the table, Rachel is already uniting her apron and organizing her books into her bag.

He idly chews his eggs. They’re scrambled, but something tastes different. He notices the flecks of green leaves and grumps. That little shit has been sneaking vegetables in his food again (“Eat more healthy Zack! Soda and cereal can't sustain your body.” he can hear her scolding him already).

He licks his lips and shovels more into his mouth. The only reason he's not getting pissy with her is because the combination of spinach and cheese tasted real damn good.

“What class are ya going to today?”

“Psych. We have a test today so I want to make sure I get there early. Maybe do some light reviewing on the ride there.”

He peeks a bleary eye open, “You wanna tag along on my bike? I can get'cha there earlier than the bus.”

“You only have one helmet, which I prefer you wear. You know how reckless you are when you drive.”

He shrugs. She wasn't wrong.

…

Rachel hears the low purr from Zack's sputtering engine outside the thin walls of the apartment and hums in delight. He came home earlier than she expected.

A few moments after, there was a small click from the front door and in entered Zack, as well as multiple plastic bags stuffed with an assortment of candies, sweets, and other delectable delights.

“Zack, I’m glad you’re back.”

He gives an amused huff before pocketing his keys, "You only like me for my food." he sneered, mismatched eyes scrutinizing her limp figure, and flashed her a snarky grin.

Rachel gives him a small smile, “That’s not true. I use you for transportation too.”

“Thanks, you do wonders for my self-esteem.”

He awkwardly maneuvers his way towards her like an overweight penguin and slips the bags off his arms and onto the coffee table. "Got everything you wanted, even stopped by the one donut place ya like so much."

He plopped on the couch in the empty space near her feet, then kicked off his shoes.

Upon opening the box, he took out a sprinkled strawberry doughnut; but just as he was about to sink his teeth into the confectionery Rachel snatched it from his hand.

"Ray?! The fuck--"

"No." she chided him with a pout, "Those are mine."

He rolled his eyes, "Okay, how about this one?" He held up a lightly glazed French cruller.

"Nope."

"The chocolate ones?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Fine, the glazed ones then."

"Actually, those are mine too."

"Ray, what the fuck, that's basically all of them!"

The corners of her lips curled into a mischievous grin, "Exactly." She smugly bit into her doughnut for added effect.

…

Zack blinks and gapes at the delicate garment currently hanging off his index finger by a thin strap. He could of played it cool, nonchalantly return it to Rachel, but his head nearly implodes.

Yeah, no, this definitely wasn’t his.

His eyes traced every lace-trimmed feature, fueling his imagination for weeks to come. How two pads and a clasp managed to dig up such an immense curiosity within men was beyond him.

He's mildly pleased that the fabric is a deep crimson red and stares, almost endearingly, then gives the two cups a soft squeeze -- for, uh, scientific reasons rest assured.

Whoa nice. They're actually really, really soft.

However, he's pulled out of his revere and harshly reminded that hormones are indeed a thing after a hot surge of heat rushes south.

Zack throws the bra back into the laundry basket with such force that the other garments jumped upon contact.

He was going to forget that he nearly popped a boner like some pubescent twelve-year-old who's seen porn mags for the first time.

…

She hears the lock click open.

“Zack?”

His response was the sound of him puking his guts out in the toilet.

Rachel winced as she heard a particularly generous slop against the porcelain.

After a few flushing noises, running water, and a string of curses, Rachel hears her door creak open and in comes Zack.

She turns over on her side to look at him and sighs. The man is nearly indestructible when it comes to physical challenges, but give him a couple of shots and he’s a goner.

“I don’t even know why you hang out with Danny and Eddie. You guys argue almost all the time.”

He sits on the edge of her bed and hugs onto her like a child, “Raaaaay," he drawls, "Take pity on meee. I'm drunk, it took me 15 fuckin’ minutes to get the damn key in to the stupid lock, I got puke on my bed, a lil bit got on my socks, I took ‘em off and my feet are cold now; I need snuggles.”

But before she could open her mouth to protest, Zack had already gotten into her bed up behind her and pressed his body against her. His arms were securely locked in place around her waist, fingering the exposed skin between her waistband and the hem of her shirt, and he was immediately snuggling into her warmth.

"What? Zack, no! Your hands are freezing!"

Zack’s lips brush against her ear as he mumbles, "...ya got some reeeeally soft skin...Smells like peaches too..."

"It's called lotion…” She blushes, “Now go to sleep before I change my mind and make you sleep on the floor."

...

Wait a minute -...

What the hell, those were his sweats! He'd been looking for them everywhere! He could tell they were his because one, it was three sizes too big for Rachel's petite frame and two, it had that off colored stain on the left pant's leg.

He picked up the sound of jingling keys and a small click and immediately whipped his head to the front door.

"I’m back from class."

“Hey, Ray. Funny how my shit ended up in your laundry huh?”

Rachel visibly stiffened. “Uh, ah, yes...how strange…”

“Bullshit and you know it.” Zack deadpanned.

“...so I borrowed one thing...maybe without asking you.”

Zack raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Just one?” He took a stack of band tees from his side and dropped them on top the table. “These don’t even fit you!”

"You don't even wear those anymore!"

"Not the point, ya damn thief."

“I-it’s just breathable and loose.”

“So get your own, woman, sheesh.”

“But yours has this…kind of like a nice something or-...actually never mind this is really –“

“What?” He says carefully. He’s never seen her act like this before.

She shifts her footing a little. “It’s just, how can I explain…It smells like you, so it reminds me of you. It’s comforting and helps me relax when I’m studying.”

Zack just blushes and all anger seemingly melts away because holy crap she likes how he smells and that somehow makes him feel really pleased with himself.

…

“Okay, but when are you two gonna fuck, you’ve been living together how long now?”

Zack’s eyes bulge and Rachel nearly chokes on her tea. The two flustered roomies sheepishly glance at each other before quickly looking away.

Zack clears his throat to mitigate his embarrassment slams his palms flat onto the cafe table, “ALRIGHT, last time we ever fukin’ go to brunch with you and Lucy.”

Cathy has a knowing smile on her cherry red lips, “...So I take that as a you’ve guys done it already huh?”

#zackraymonth #zackraymonth2018 #zackray #zack x ray #satsuten #my fics #Not too proud of this one but..#it's simple and cute~#so I still love it #Wish it had more tho haha~

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readingwebcomics · 5 years

Text

Analyzing Questionable Content: Pages 151-200

High school bully or not, I’d like to reiterate the fact that Dora’s presence is so terrifying that it can repel a trained government agent. That’s a level of badass we should all strive to be.

…I mean like, don’t actually beat people up and steal their cigarettes, lung cancer is bad. But still!

Before getting into things, I’d like to open with a little bit of bookkeeping: First, as was pointed out to me by at least two different people, I COMPLETELY misread #123 – it was Marten who was helping Steve out on a date, not the other way around. This was completely my bad, so I personally retract everything I said about Jeph’s timescale.

Secondly, on my point on Dora’s identity crisis, user Scarlet Manuka had this to say:

For the time frame of Dora's goth phase, I think that Jeph is actually trying to present this as a genuine identity crisis for Dora - but it's also likely one that's been a long time building up. She's probably been becoming increasingly disenchanted with it for the last couple of years, and given that Raven complains that she's missed fifteen or so meetings, it looks like she's already subconsciously let it go quite some time in the past. I think we're seeing more the conscious realisation of a process that's already happened. In many ways that's what an identity crisis is: the realisation that the slow incremental changes we all experience every day have added up into something big while you weren't looking, and that something you thought was part of you really isn't any more.

That’s a perfectly fair point and one I didn’t consider. Thanks for bringing this up, under this light the time frame of Dora’s realization and her gradual shift into a different identity over the course of the next few comics makes perfect sense.

Finally, it was pointed out to me by Marco on the QC Forums that it’s only fair to link to the comic itself in these posts. While I had figured it was really simple to find the comic for whoever’s reading it considering it’s one of the biggest, longest running webcomics out there, they do have a point that I at least owe it to supply links to the site in these posts. So from now on, the dumb intro blurb to each of my posts will hyperlink to the first comic in the batch I’ll be talking about. That way, you can read along with the analysis if you so wish. Cool? Cool.

Now with that all out of the way, let’s move on to the analysis. Agent Turing has nope’d out and Dora saw herself out, letting Marten know that if he buys her dinner she’ll call it even.

This is a weird case of me totally getting WHY Jeph’s going this particular direction – he needs Marten and Faye at an ice cream shop to reveal a bit more about Faye’s backstory, which we’ll be touching on a bit later – but the particular setup for doing this feels… off. This right here reads like a textbook case of a writer going “Fuck, how do I get these characters to do XYZ…” and this being the best solution they could come up with. What’s worse about this is that only a few panels later, Jeph offers a much better alternative:

Literally all he had to do was have Faye be the one to bring this up: Instead of the panel with Marten blatantly asking “So THAT happened, what do you want to do now?” have Faye be the one to bring up that Marten owes her a little something for helping out with the situation, he brings up the ice cream parlor and then the rest of the comic goes on as normal. This may sound pedantic, but it’s a case where just a slight change in wording makes all the difference between sounding contrived and sounding natural.

I have… issues with this comic.

On one hand, Faye is opening up more about her past. A small, innocuous thing spurred her on to open up a little more to Marten, the reminder cracking her mask and showing just how much trauma she’s really containing within. You can tell this is more than just “bringing back memories” – his death had a profound impact on her, there’s something she’s not wanting to bring up or discuss but is being partially dragged to the surface. This is good character writing, and an amazing step in Faye’s character arc. It spurs curiosity, sparks intrigue, makes you WANT to keep reading to see the next time Faye’s mask cracks because you want to see what she’s hiding underneath it.

On the other hand… there’s no nice way to say this – at this point, Jeph is not talented enough at drawing to portray this from an imagery standpoint. The faces are too stiff, the expressions to stock. Faye doesn’t look like tears are escaping from her despite her best efforts to keep a straight face, she looks like she’s mildly disinterested and a blue line to represent tears was drawn on top of her face. Writing can take you far, but the thing about comics is that the written word is only half of the story. Anything you sell with words, you need to also be able to sell with expressions, with physicality and staging.

I’m not an expert in art – not by a LONG shot, I couldn’t draw a comic to save my life – so I can’t exactly offer any advice on how he could’ve made this work better. I’m at least glad to say that with time Jeph came to improve his artistic style, making moments like this feel a lot more natural down the road. He eventually gets comfortable enough with his drawings that he’s able to tell a story using JUST body language, which is admirable. Clearly, we’re not there yet… and unfortunately, it hurts the mood that this comic is trying to sell.

After a week of guest comics, we continue the story with Faye sharing stories about her childhood with Marten, showing just how comfortable she’s become around him that she feels at ease sharing details about her past she likely wouldn’t share otherwise.

Oh, and we’ve got some revelations about Marten’s past here. The Thanksgiving comic where he talks about how his family drives him crazy is starting to make more sense now, isn’t it?

Here, we see three things displayed. First, the fraction used in Marten’s dialogue instead of just saying “half”. I… don’t get why that is. It makes me irrationally angry though. I’m aware that’s fully on me.

Second, this serves to showcase both Marten’s blasé attitude about his strange upbringing and offer potentially an expiation as to why he seems so passive about everything. I’ve offered up the idea in a previous post that when he goes out and makes a choice, it’s enough to completely shift his entire world, so that may have served to encourage him not to not want to rock the boat and keep his head low. This, however, might serve as an alternative explanation, or at least another piece of the puzzle – growing up in a… let’s call it “untraditional” household where his parents were clearly quite open about what they were doing with his son, the fact that Marten grew up to be rather milquetoast serves to make a certain degree of sense.

Third, Marten’s being sassy. I like when Marten’s sassy. As I said, his character kind of… devolves in later comics, so seeing him have a spine enough to throw this out is always fun to read. Plus, it also serves to showcase how comfortable the two of them are with each other that Marten can sling this stuff out without fear of retaliation.

Setup...

The next day, Faye’s leaving for work when a surprise visitor comes to their door.

Marten’s comment always makes me laugh. This comic in general is just hilarious, from Amanda – Faye’s sister’s name is Amanda by the way – triple bomb thrown right into Faye’s lap to Faye’s 404 error to Marten not even missing a beat in his reaction to what’s going on in front of him.

Honestly, I’m with Marten here. And once again, I’m afraid I have to point out the fact that Jeph isn’t quite talented at drawing facial expressions yet ruins the punchline to Faye’s joke in the last panel. At least the writing serves to keep the humor going strong, and don’t mistake me here – these next few comics are gut busters. I fucking love the chaos Amanda causes by just stepping into their lives.

Oh yeah, I guess I should talk about Amanda now, shouldn’t I? Well, uh. Hm. She’s a Lesbian. And she’s a bit of a troublemaker. And like a little bit of a ditz?

…yeah that’s literally all I can think to describe her as. Cut me a little bit of slack here though, at the time of writing we’re on page 4010 and I’d be genuinely surprised if Amanda was in more than 50 pages total. The only real significant things I can think to say about her as a character is how what she says and does serves to inform Faye’s character.

Like right here – we can see the whole “doesn’t plan much further than the very next step you’re about to take” mentality runs in Faye’s family. Also, Jeph’s trying different angles out! Good on him, even little changes like this can serve to make the action feel at least slightly more dynamic!

“Clitoriste” is an amazing word and I hope to find a way to work it into at least one conversation before I die.

Amanda hangs around the coffee shop, swapping sex stories with Dora as Faye desperately tries to claw her own eardrums until Marten comes along. And as I’m saying this, I realize with hindsight that Dora’s being super cool right now, not only letting her loiter around her business but also realizing she was kicked out of her house at least in part because of her sexuality and so is letting her know “Hey, fucking girls is AWESOME, right?” to keep her mind off current events. The more I talk about Dora, the cooler she gets, seriously.

“Aerodynamically curvaceous” is another amazing phrase, this one great enough that Jeph eventually made it into a T-shirt. Seeing as I have as many curves on me as a string bean does, there’s no way I could get away with wearing it myself, but the fact that the shirt exists makes me a little happier to be alive.

Anyway, this comic goes on to show that despite the circumstances, Amanda is taking this rather well all things considered, and Faye has faith that given some time to sit with the information their mom will come around… Also that Faye was a damn good student, which might go on to explain how she was able to absorb so much information about guitars when her ex rambled on about them so much – she just retains information THAT well.

This comic… raises a LOT of questions. The last comic involves characters from another webcomic entirely, making this a fun little Easter Egg/crossover sort of deal. That being said, this raises a LOT of questions about the continuity of QC. Does it take place within the universe of Diesel Sweeties? Or does Diesel Sweeties exist within the universe of QC? The fact that we have a humanoid robot here – does that serve to shed a light on AI development in the QC universe? Did Jeph consider what AI development there would be at this point in writing? I assume not, as thus far the only intelligent devices are Anthro PCs. Is Clango an Anthro PC? Is he a prototype of a more advanced synthetic?

These are questions that were never intended for me to ask, aren’t they? Yeah. That’s what I figured. Considering the fact that Amanda has a girlfriend is canon, and the following phone conversation on the next page is canon as well, the best way to rationalize this is to just pretend that last panel doesn’t exist. Remove it entirely, and this strip fits in perfectly with QC’s established continuity and universe thus far.

Unless you REALLY want to find a way to fit Diesel Sweeties into QC’s universe, which I suppose wouldn’t be that difficult considering it’s a non-plot focused gag-a-day comic, but that’s entirely up to you.

Oh, and speaking of the conversation the two have over the phone:

Credit where it’s due, Dora’s expression on the first two panels is clearly different from the standard set of facial expressions Jeph usually puts on everyone. It’s always nice to see some experimentation! And here’s another situation where Amanda’s main purpose is to drive forward Faye’s character – here we get another hint of something that happened in her past, confirmation that she hasn’t dated anyone in a long time and some kind of source of a reason why she hadn’t. The scar on her chest, the death of her father, the lack of a love life stemming from some event… pieces to the Faye puzzle are falling into place, but we still don’t have everything. We’re given just enough to inspire further curiosity though, which – and I know I’ve said this a hundred times before, but I will say it a hundred times again – is good character writing.

…all that said, I sincerely hope that phone was shock proof. I don’t think her Mom’s exactly going to be in the mood to get her a new one.

Considering Amanda stole her credit card and all, I don’t blame their mom for being furious at her. That said, it’s nice to see that it didn’t take long at all for her to calm down and want to talk things over.

And here, we have specific confirmation that there was a set of “circumstances” that led Faye to want to leave home and move up here. Another piece of the Faye mystery falls into place.

Amanda’s immediately heading off to the airport to return home, leaving Marten and Faye to reel in the wake of an… I’d say it’s fair to call it an intense day.

HAH! If you haven’t read all the way through QC, you don’t understand why that’s so funny in hindsight. Trust me, give it another few hundred comics and it’ll make sense. God, I wonder if that specific reference was intentional on Jeph’s part, or if he just likes Vespas? Then again… he IS an anime buff, it’s entirely possible both events stem from FLCL.

Oh hey, there’s that pink Anthro PC again. We saw them back at the LANPark. Haven’t added them to the character list though since we don’t even know their name, but it seems like Pintsize has friends and a life off-panel. Good for him! I do wonder what ends up happening to these guys later though… Most likely they all just drift apart and move on with their lives.

...Why am I so sad all of a sudden?

And here we see an example of the two of them openly flirting with each other, dipped deep in sarcasm of course but that’s just how these two roll. Their inter-personal relationship has progressed really well and at a nice, natural pace so far. At this rate, something should be coming to a head very soon – either one or the both of them need to acknowledge the fact that they’re getting closer, or something’s going to happen that will throw a monkey wrench into the dance they’re performing.

Ugh. I’m coming to hate whenever Marten says “What do you want to do now?” Maybe it’s just me, I’m willing to accept I’m reading too much into this, but whenever he says that all I hear in my head is Jeph going “I can’t think of a more natural way to transition into this next scene so I’ll have Marten ask this question to push the scene forward.” It just feels like bad storytelling to me, it really does.

Now, I need you to hold onto your seats right now, because what you’re about to read next might just be the greatest comic you’ve ever read in your life. The mere act of seeing this may very well knock you out of your seat. Are you ready for this? I don’t think you are – I don’t think ANY of us are. Brace yourselves.

My man, Jimbo! And yes, he is officially called Jimbo now, so we’ll be changing the name in the character stats screen at the end of this post. And this man, this absolute LEGEND, is living the dream – quitting his blue-collar job to pursue his passion in writing! He’s worked hard to get where he is in life, and now that he’s here, the fruits of his labor are paying off! As a commercial electrician who’s writing on the side, I strive to be like Jimbo one day. God bless you, you absolute PINNACLE of human achievement!

I can’t NOT show off more Jimbo comics, he’s just that great. Also, Faye’s drunken antics are fucking hilarious.

Credit where it’s due to Faye for not only helping Jimbo out with his writing but also doing it as a completely on-the-spot Haiku, while totally piss drunk. Not even going to lie, that takes talent.

Faye’s willingness to engage in behavior like this raises… questions. Questions that I’m not entirely comfortable asking right now considering the author’s own past with alcohol. I’ll touch more on it when we reach the batch of comics 501-550, I’m going to need more time to prepare myself to talk about it in a way that’s as respectful as possible.

And finally… the moment of truth. When long-time readers of QC remember the Pre-500 era, there are two things that come to our mind: The actual conversation that happens at issue 500 that marks the transitional phase of QC into the kind of webcomic it is today… and the headbutt-crotch-vomit comic.

Behold.

I’m not even going to try offering commentary here. Absolutely nothing I could say can be better than what you just witnessed in this comic.

This page right here… it has an interesting dynamic between its first and last panels. Panel one, again, Jeph takes the time to make a new facial expression for Faye as she’s waking up, one that looks nice and works with the dialogue to communicate how she’s feeling. And then in the last panel… well, I don’t think it’s exactly controversial to say that her face in the last panel doesn’t communicate the confusion and rage she’s supposed to be feeling as expressed in the dialogue, is it? Jeph is getting there, his artistry is clearly evolving, but he’s not quite talented enough to pull it all off quite yet. Still, little improvements should be applauded!

And here we get another character confirming suspicions raised back in #172, that being Faye clearly has some relationship hangups stemming from something happening in her past. This raises some concerns considering their more flirtatious behavior around each other and their developing inter-personal relationship. At this point, SOMETHING has to happen to inspire a reaction or change out of one of the two, or they may very well find themselves trapped in stagnation… keep that in mind for a little while longer. On the art side of things, something to note that I just realized… Steve has a shine in his eyes to make them look more natural and full of life, but Marten’s doesn’t. Is there any particular reason for this? And why am I noticing it just now? Actually looking back a few comics, the “shine in the eyes” detail only started with #186… again, in all characters except Marten. Is there a significant reason for this? Or is it just a detail that’s easier to do with the shades of color in people’s eyes except for Marten’s for whatever reason? I don’t have an answer, but it’s something to keep in mind at least while we watch the art evolve.

Also, one more thing?

Either Marten’s a liar, or Faye’s ass is just THAT good that it converted him. My money’s on the latter, considering people routinely talk about how baller Faye’s ass is.

Yes, I did just use the word “baller” unironically. No, I don’t have any shame, thanks for asking.

…payoff.

And again with the fucking contraction thing… It’s not subtle if other characters are pointing it out! I know, I’m the only person willing to die on this hill, and I KNOW it’s long-passed and nobody’s concerned about it anymore, but it genuinely bothers me! This is a stupid character traits that… bah, I’m not going to repeat myself again. On a lighter note, this particular comic showcases how much better Jeph’s gotten at drawing faces. It’s not much, but it’s better than the stock expressions that most characters usually wear, and you can see some subtle actions and thoughts expressed in the way Dora or Faye’s eyebrows move, in which direction their eyes are facing… it’s nice stuff.

I won’t show everything in these next three comics, but I wanted to showcase this series of events at least because this is some good character writing that says a lot about both Steve and the new girl Jeph introduces.

Setup…

Payoff…

…and subversion of expectations.

Sorry Marten, but I’m with Steve here 100%. That was clever, well-played, and EXTREMELY hot all at once. It’s too bad we don’t end up seeing much of Ellen after this because she has SUCH a strong established introduction.

And what fortunate timing – we have another collection of guest comics, which ends RIGHT at #200:

And here we go – the spark of conflict in the relationship dynamic between Marten and Faye that I predicted we needed. How’s Faye going to deal with this? How’s Marten going to deal with this? What if on this date it turns out he’s actually, seriously interested in Dora? Would this push Faye to action? She’s made it clear, at least to the people around her, that she’s not interested in pursuing something with Marten… so what if someone made her put her money where her mouth is? Well, we’ll find out one way or another come the next batch of comics.

While we’re still talking about this batch however, let’s do our usual deal of comparing the art shift between the first and the last comics in the batch:

This is a clear-cut example of a lot of small, subtle tweaks happening over the course of a long enough period of time making a clear, distinct difference. The biggest change, of course, being the faces of everyone as I’ve been bringing up all throughout this post – everyone looks so much more EXPRESSIVE. You can get a proper read on someone��s mood based on just how they look alone now, and I find that super impressive… admittedly, it also makes me wish that Jeph could/would re-do the ice cream comic in this newer art style to properly capture the expression on Faye’s face that he wanted to capture, but you know. Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.

So what did I think of this batch of comics so far? Personally, I think it’s the best batch yet – the best improvement in art, the most introduced on Faye’s character, the best sarcasm from Marten… a LOT was improved in this batch, and that deserves praise. I like where the plot is going, I want to know more about Faye, and I am hooked on the will they/won’t they story, especially with the newer developments in the complexities of their relationship web coming into play.

All that said, let’s take a look at the data analysis for this particular batch:

Marten: 34/50 – 68%

Faye: 33/50 – 66%

Dora: 12/50 – 24%

Amanda: 12/50 – 24%

Steve: 6/50 – 12%

Pintsize: 5/50 – 10%

Jimbo: 3/50 – 6%

Ellen: 3/50 – 6%

Turing: 1/50 – 2%

Grand Total:

Marten: 166/200 – 83%

Faye: 163/200 – 81.5%

Dora: 51/200 – 25.5%

Pintsize: 50/200 – 25%

Steve: 22/200 – 11%

Amanda: 12/200 – 6%

Sara: 7/200 – 3.5%

Jimbo: 5/200 – 2.5%

Turing: 4/200 – 2%

Raven: 3/200 – 1.5%

Ellen: 3/200 – 1.5%

Scott: 2/200 – 1%

Miéville: 1/200 – 0.5%

Ell: 1/200 – 0.5%

Do note that in this last batch, 12 of the 50 were non-canon guest comics, so I didn’t count any characters showing up in any of them. Either way, it looks like Amanda was in enough comics to create a barrier in the stats between main and major supporting characters and minor characters as far as amount of time they’ve shown up in the comic goes. I don’t know if anyone else finds that as interesting as I do, I just think it’s neat.

In any case, tune in next week for the exciting conclusion to the double-date story! And a trip to the hospital!

…the two things aren’t related, I swear. See you then.

#Questionable Content #Faye #Marten #Pintsize #Dora #Steve #Long-Form Analysis #Analysis

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